On Pliny’s ostrich and reactive behaviour
For generations, many believed that Pliny the Elder (23–79 CE) was the source for the most recognised and iconic description of ostriches–i.e. that they bury their heads when scared. While it is true that Pliny does suggest as much, it is a passing comment at best. He says:
They have the marvellous property of being able to [swallow] substance without distinction, but their stupidity is no less remarkable; for although the rest of their body is so large, they imagine, when they have thrust their head and neck into a bush, that the whole of their body is concealed. (Natural History, 10.1)*
However, Pliny was not the first to mention this apparent phenomenon, for Diodorus Siculus (fl. 1st century BCE) notes:
When she [the ostrich] is near being taken [by her pursuers], she thrusts her head under a shrub or some such like clover; not (as some suppose) through folly and blockishness, as if she would not see any pursuers, or be seen by them, but because her head is tenderest part of her body, she seeks to secure that part all manner of ways she can. (Historical Library, 2.4)
Even here we can see that describing this supposed reactive behaviour circulated before and during the time of Diodorus. The obvious difference between Pliny and Diodorus is that one sees the behaviour as foolish while the other views it as sensible.** While this behaviour has gone unobserved in the modern world, which allows people to assume a mythological element to the account; at the very least, Pliny should be exonerated for being the originator of this assumed mythical behaviour. However, regardless of its historical accuracy or origin, there are lessons to be learned from this description that can be applied to real life. Too many times, when confronted with difficult and even fearful obstacles in life, people opt for the proverbial ‘head-in-the-sand’ approach. However, this over-reactionary approach is never helpful nor it is ever truly good. This is the case for at least three reasons.
A proper assessment of what is ostensibly difficult has not been given. Here, the person automatically assumes that the obstacle is to be feared without determining whether or not that assumption has any merit. It is entirely possible that a difficult moment in life is not as daunting or fearful as it might appear. It is equally possible that what is superficially frightening is ultimately peaceful and even beneficial. In the case of the ostrich, it is quite possible that what terrifies it truly meant it no harm; however, the automatic assumption compels it to take drastic measures thus removing any chance of knowing what was real and true. In the case of people, the same thing applies; however, the difference is that humans have the ability to decide consciously either to act animalistically or properly assess the obstacle before taking appropriate action. Only after such patient assessment can a person know if they should run or be receptive. Furthermore, if the obstacle is only superficially frightening and ultimately peaceful and beneficial at its core, then the animalistic decision to be an ostrich is painfully revealing. It shows a lack of concern for the value of what might be, and it shows a lack of willingness to be wise and patient so as to properly assess difficult and fearful moments in life.
A proper assessment of one’s self has not been taken seriously. Here, the person by default assumes that they do not have the abilities, strength or even intelligence to confront this obstacle–again, without determining the merits of that assumption. It is entirely possible that the obstacle is in fact adversarial. It is equally possible that the obstacle in life does not have good intentions. (However, without dealing with the first problem, neither of these two possibilities cannot be known for certain). Even if such is the case, it is also possible that the ill-intentioned, adversarial obstacle can be confronted and resisted. The confident decision to stand and fight arises from knowing one’s abilities and strengths. In the case of the ostrich, their immensely powerful legs and talon toes can inflict serious injury on their opponents. While seemingly contrary to the ’stand and fight’ defence, Diodorus Siculus notes that when an ostrich is running from a pursuer, it will hurl stones backwards from the ground at incredible speeds toward their opponent, often resulting in death. Moreover, the powerful legs of an ostrich can achieve speeds up to 45mph (or more), thus enabling it to outrun most predators. These abilities and strengths are in favour of the ostrich. In a similar way, people are equipped with numerous abilities and strengths that can prove useful in difficult and fearful times. More times than not, these strengths and abilities are of the cognitive nature–i.e. the ability to reason and rationally dialogue. Furthermore, these abilities and strengths might wind up being superior to what is encountered; but this cannot ever be known if a person automatically chooses to run and hide the moment difficulty rears its seemingly scary face. Thus, to ignore abilities and strengths in one’s self is to allow easy victory for what could have been easily defeated by such things.
A proper assessment of the outcome has not been fully given. Here, the person merely assumes what will happen as a result of their decision, with the further assumption that the result will be in their favour. It is quite possible that one’s decision to run and hide will be successful
, but this is usually only fortuitous–i.e. the apparent adversary either proves to be non-adversarial or simply does not give chase. However, if the apparent adversary is truly harmless, then the decision to run and hide was futile (if not insulting). On the other hand, if the apparent adversary is truly harmful and yet did not give chase, knowing that the person will run and hide at the first sight of danger becomes an advantage for the adversary–i.e. they know they can make the person afraid. If this the case, then the person’s decision to run and hide only has a temporary effect. More to the point, and returning to Pliny’s interpretation of the ostrich’s behaviour, the decision to hide from that which is fearful by burying its head is based on the assumption that the entire self is hidden. This then leads to the assumption that the adversary will simply pass by and not see where the ostrich is hiding. But seriously, is this posture not painfully obvious and visible? (One would have to be a complete fool to think otherwise). When applied to human behaviour, however, the true folly of this approach is not that the one hiding believes that they cannot be seen (although, that might be part of the logic); the true folly is that by adopting such a posture, the difficult and fearful obstacle no longer exists. This seems to stem not only from the ‘out-of-sight, out-of-mind’ assumption of an infant but also from the modern empirical assumption of ‘only that which can be perceived truly exists’. For the ostrich, both of these assumptions would be quickly revealed as false the moment the hunter shoots the now easy target.
Where does this leave us? If we run away from something that appears difficult or fearful, and we do so without taking the time to find out if that something really is difficult or fearful; then we expose more about ourselves than we do about that which confronts us. We show that our perception of reality is more important than what is truly real. We also show that we do not care to know if our perception even respectfully reflects reality. Furthermore, we show a lack of willingness to be patient with difficult times in life; we are much more willing to give in to the escapist desire to run and hide. If we fail to value and employ our strengths and abilities–especially in the face of difficult times–then we refuse to acknowledge and faithfully use what God has given us. Moreover, not employing what God has given us and choosing instead to run and hide exposes a lack of faith–not only in our gifts but also the Gift-giver. Problems in life must be confronted openly and honestly, and their true nature must be assessed patiently and carefully before making any decisions on how to respond. God must be trusted in the midst of such times for it is from God that we have ability to assess and confront that which hinders us from moving forward. Finally, if we decide to run and proverbially bury our heads in the sand, believing either that the difficult time will pass by or that it no longer exists, we not only set ourselves up for future disappointments but we also acknowledge our delusionalness. Ignoring problems does not make them go away; believing that by ignoring problems they no longer exist borders on the insane.
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* Pliny earlier describes a similar behaviour with mullet fish: ‘One singular propensity of the mullet has afforded a subject for laughter; when it is frightened, it hides its head [in the sand] and fancies that the whole of its body is concealed’ (Natural History, 9.26). Aristotle says virtually the same thing in his book, History of Animals, 8.4.3.
** Diodorus goes on to say that the ostrich does this for naturalistic reasons–i.e. for the sake of securing its own life, thus enabling it to perpetuate its species.
Scattered, smothered, and nearly covered
April DeConick offered a quick and rather cogent post on the mysteries of the deep. Okay, so I fibbed a little. It’s really about the stuff that gets buried on one’s desk in the process of working/researching. I thought it would be fun to do something similar, but with pictures! I basically have two work environments: one at the ‘official’ space at the University, and the other at the ‘commandeered’ space at the house.
At the University
MacBook Pro; PC (used for internet and e-mail); Greek New Testament (NA27); H.J. Cadbury, Making of Luke-Acts (1958); J.C. Beker, Paul the Apostle (1980); M.J. Gorman, Cruciformity (2001); F.J. Matera, New Testament Theology (2007); A.J. Malherbe, Letters to the Thessalonians (2001); Bible (NASB); notepads; a plethora of journal articles; pen; lamp that I never use; and coffee.
At the Homestead*
MacBook Pro (same one); Greek New Testament (NA27–yep, same one); A.C. Thiselton, First Corinthians (2000); G.D. Fee, First Corinthians (1987); R. Pickett, Cross at Corinth (1997)–under Fee’s book; W. Schrage, Der erste Brief an die Korinther, vol. 1 (1991); more notepads; more journal articles; coffee (sadly empty); pen; and specs.
What about you? How do you like your desk?
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* I should mention that the ‘homestead’ picture was taken earlier (i.e. about a month ago), but nevertheless reflects my usual plight.
Dealing with ‘parallelomania’ while trying not to contribute to it
Even though I work primarily in the field of New Testament studies, I have an almost uncontrollable tendency to venture outside my boundaries and into other lands. More times than not, these journeys include the exotic plains of Ancient Near Eastern wisdom, the bustling city streets of Graeco-Roman philosophy, and even the unsettling wilderness of Old Testament theology.* In many respects, I think this propensity for wandering is healthy in academic studies simply because it is easy to become siloed** in one’s field. The more practical reason for wandering, however, is simply this: there are some great thinkers and writers out there who deserve to be read, but to gain access to them means jumping the fence.
One of my favourite Old Testament scholars is Samuel Sandmel. (I have others, but he is one of the ones at the top of my list). He is engaging, incisive, thought-provoking, occasionally disruptive, and dare I say punctually humorous in his writing. He is recognised as a mind and person to be reckoned with by scholars working in Jewish-Christian history and theology. This is the case not only because he too had a propensity to wander into other fields but also because he appears to have established residence in many of them. Thus, when he speaks about a particular discipline or aspect of that discipline, we can be quite certain that he is speaking as a native of that field and one who knows the territory.
In 1961, Sandmel delivered an inaugural lecture at the annual Society of Biblical Literature conference, which was held in St. Louis, Missouri. The title of his lecture was simply, ‘Parallelomania’ and its contents revealed a growing concern that he perceived within biblical studies. (If you would like to read it, you can find here). The gist of the lecture confronted what he saw as the problematic tendency within scholarship of overemphasising apparent parallels between biblical texts and other ancient writings and/or writing styles, features, trends, etc. Specifically, the problem for Sandmel was that the parallels became so prominent in academic studies that they had become seen as evidence of influence. For example, because the letter of Hebrews deals with the topics of messiah, prophets, angels, Moses and Aaron in a way that parallels what can be found in the writings of Qumran; some believed that the author of Hebrews was influenced by the teaching of those at Qumran. For Sandmel, the ‘influence’ bit was the problem. Furthermore, the worst case scenario of ‘parallelomania’ was that the contents of the parallels found became the standard of measure for interpreting biblical texts.
As some of you might know, I am currently working on the specific text of 1 Corinthians 2.1–3.4 and trying to figure out what in the world is going on in this section of Paul’s letter. In dealing with this text, I am looking at four major interpretative models and their contributions for understanding the logic of the passage. The four models are: historical criticism, social-scientific analysis, theological hermeneutics, and rhetorical criticism. With the exception of historical criticism and maybe theological hermeneutics, social-scientific analysis in general and rhetorical criticism in particular appear to have forgotten Sandmel’s cautionary words. With regard to social-scientific analysis, the parallels found tend to have what could be called a chronological dissonance in the sense that modern sociological theories and trends are retroactively applied to biblical texts as though there is a one-to-one correlation. (I admit that this is an oversimplification of the process). With regard to rhetorical criticism, ‘parallelomania’ appears to an epidemic–especially the strand that manifests itself with the boils and sores of direct ‘influence’. (I’m currently taking medication for my jaundice against rhetorical criticism).
I cannot count the number of scholars I’ve read in the past few months who make passionate and assertive claims about Paul’s brilliant rhetorical acumen in both his preaching ministry and literary career. Such claims are often predicated on assumptions regarding Paul’s education–assumptions that are not typically supported in the works that assert them–but even that remains a matter of scholarly dispute. However, because the parallels suggested exist between Graeco-Roman rhetoric and Paul’s ministry (and writing), scholars often argue that the former necessarily influenced the latter. I realise that I open myself up to debate/ridicule in saying this, but: I remain unconvinced that such an influence actually existed or that showing an influence is even possible. In fact, I (boldly) maintain that Graeco-Roman rhetoric has become a siloed discipline in biblical studies with the result that other possibilities are simply overlooked.
Herein lies my dilemma. For my project, I must read through the relevant materials (i.e. the Graeco-Roman rhetorical stuff) in order to make my case that Paul was not adopting and/or employing rhetorical conventions during his 18-month sojourn in Corinth. I must also read through other materials (i.e. the non-Graeco-Roman rhetorical stuff) that have similar themes, ideas, and terms related to what Paul says in 1 Cor 2.1–3.4 which might be better suited for understanding his argument in that particular text. More problematic is the fact that what I’m seeing as better suited has been largely dismissed by other scholars as being unsuitable–or, it does not seem to parallel what is found in the text. But I wonder: is it unsuitable because it does not parallel with what is found in the text; or is it unsuitable because it does not parallel the parallelomanic-rhetorical reading currently surrounding the text? If the former, then fine; if the latter, then we have a serious problem–one that Sandmel warned us about over 40 years ago.
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* My Master’s thesis in Seminary was an attempt to document my journeys into these other fields.
** ’siloed’ (verb): the act of being turned into a silo–i.e. an isolated building in the middle of nowhere.
Industrial-sized blenders and funnels
Along with my usual responsibilities, I am working on four short articles to be published in the Dictionary of the Bible and Western Culture (Baylor, 2010). What I appreciate about this opportunity is that it forces me to think not only intentionally but also concisely, because the dictionary is aimed at undergraduates and the length is confined to 600 words (or less). My approved four are: ‘Book of Life’, ‘Mystery’, ‘Signs of the Times’, and ‘Twinkling of an Eye’. (For those keeping score: yes, I do have apocalyptic interests).
There were two topics, however, that I wanted to do but were already assigned: ‘Camel Through a Needle’s Eye’ and ‘Behemoth’; however, I found out that such was the case after I had written the one on the camel. So I thought: why not post it and see what people think? What follows is a slightly lengthen and adapted version of the article. I would be curious to hear comments, criticisms, etc.
Camel Through a Needle’s Eye. This rather graphic phrase is found in Mark 10:25 (paralleled in Matthew 19:24; Luke 18:25). Some interpretative concerns are worth pursuing before attempting to ascertain the meaning of this phrase.
First, a variant reading in some Greek manuscripts reads, ‘a rope [or, cable].’ The variation is often explained as: a visual mistake on the part of the scribe making a copy of the text where the scribe accidentally read καμηλον (kamêlon [‘camel’]) as καμιλον (kamilon [‘rope/cable’]); an audible mistake, if the scribe was creating a copy via dictation, due to eta (η) and iota (ι) having similar sounds; or a scribe purposely replaced καμηλον with καμιλον in order to minimise the otherwise gross imagery. However, the reading of καμηλον not only outweighs the marginal reading of καμιλον but also appears in earlier manuscripts. The earliest reference for καμιλον is around 444 CE and not appearing again until the 9th century CE, whereas the reference for καμηλον ranges consistently from 215 CE onward. Superficially, while the basic force of Jesus’ meaning would be retained whichever term was chosen; given the manuscript evidence (and other rules related to Textual Criticism), the reading of ‘camel’ is favoured in spite of (or, even because of) its graphic nature.
Second, considering the phrase as a whole, early theories suggested a small hole in the wall of a city serving as a gate through which travellers and their animals must pass. However, given its humiliating size, camels were either excluded or squeezed through only after off-loading their cargo—and even then with great effort. Some believe that this gate was called, ‘the Needle’s Eye’ and that Jesus’ comment in Mark 10.25 referenced not only this gate but also the great effort of bringing a camel through it. Thus, the rich man could enter heaven only if he was willing to be ‘off-loaded’ and humbled before God. Another theory, which is essentially a variation of the first one, suggested an extremely narrow mountain path known as ‘the Eye of the Needle’. The tight squeeze of this path required the riders of camels to dismount and walk slowly through mountains thus becoming vulnerable to robbers. While both of these options provide for interesting preaching material and captivating Sunday School lessons, there simply is no historical evidence to support them. Furthermore, both theories minimise (if not subvert) the significance of Jesus’ statement by making the impossible humanly possible.
Third, concerning additional uses, the phrase can be found in later extra-biblical texts and in a way that militates against references to a physical location. Berakhot 55b, exchanging camel for an elephant, stresses the impossibility of a given reality suggested by an evil spirit in a dream. Similarly, Bava Metzi’a 38b criticises the argumentative tendencies of the Babylonians who proclaim things that are logical impossible–hence: with their logic, ‘they push an elephant through the eye of a needle.’ More in line with Jesus’ statement, Persiqta 25.163b nuances the meaning of the imagery with God saying, ‘Open for me a gate no wider than a needle’s eye, and I will open for you a gate through which camps and fortifications can pass.’ Thus, the focus is on faith in what God can do (cf. Acts of Peter and Andrew). Similarly, yet from the other (logical) direction, the Qu’ran says, ‘the gates of heaven will not be opened for them nor shall they enter paradise until the camel passes through the eye of a needle’ (Surah 7.40), meaning: access can only be obtained by a divine act.
Finally, with regard to its meaning, two features should be noted. First, the insanely hyperbolic nature of the phrase needs to be retained in order for Jesus’ statement to have its full effect. Furthermore, the way in which the phrase is employed in extra-biblical texts supports a hyperbolic reading. Second, Jesus does not suggest that the rich are excluded from heaven because they are rich; instead, they are excluded because they believe their riches entitle them access to heaven. For Jesus, that belief is a logical (and theological) impossibility.
Quote of the day (or, week)
We are going to have to stop penalising people for making that most human of gestures–a mistake. . . . So long as there’s an opportunity to profit from the simple, unintentional mistakes of others, then there will always be a desire to do so. To lash out. To blame. To turn some poor unfortunate soul who just happened to be in wrong job on the wrong day into a human punchbag.
- Jeremy Clarkson, The World According to Clarkson (2004), 76
BNTC Reflections: Personal (1)
This past weekend (03-05 Sep) was the annual British New Testament Conference, which this year was held at the University of Aberdeen (Scotland). Next year, it will enjoy the picturesque environs of Bangor University (Wales). In many ways, this year’s conference was a stepping-stone for me–both personally and academically. In the next few posts, I will detail why that is the case. As can be surmised from the title of this post, my focus here (and the next one) will be on the personal; although, there is some overlap with the academic.
I will readily admit that attending such a conference was an emotional and mental roller-coaster, simply because I constantly struggle with self confidence. In new situations, mostly with people I have never met, I know how to put on a brave face, and I know how to hold my own in a general conversation. However, if the ties of the mask become loose or my input to simple dialogue runs dry, nervousness sets in and I tend to lose focus and long for a quiet refuge. I want to do better, and I want to move past these struggles–I need to. Strangely enough, despite my inner reservations, these sorts of events are an excellent catalyst for making such progress. I am deeply grateful that I had my wonderful wife beside me who gave me the words of encouragement and the warm smile of assurance at all the right times.
One thing that impressed me about this BNTC was the congenial atmosphere of those who were present–some 170 New Testament scholars from various places. The academic snobbery typically endemic of conferences such as the Society of Biblical Literature was lacking at the BNTC. (If it was present, I did not encounter it). The scholars here were approachable and willing to dialogue on a diversity of topics, ranging from current research projects to favourite pubs in the UK. This sort of atmosphere helped alleviate many of my initial fears and reservations.
Immediately, on the first night, I ran into other PhD students that I knew personally–either from previous encounters or through e-mails. One of these was Ben Blackwell (at Durham University), previously known only from e-mail correspondence. Ben was extremely helpful in providing useful information for us prior to our move from the States to the UK. When I met Ben this past weekend, for the first time, I quickly realised that the help he provided prior to our move was reflective of who he is as a person. He is a very gracious and welcoming person. Ben also kindly introduced me to other PhD students–several of whom are working in similar fields of study.
Another encounter was Matthew Malcolm (at University of Nottingham). Matthew and I (and my lovely wife) met earlier this year at Oxford right before a lecture given by James Dunn. Matthew and I share research interests in that we are both working in 1 Corinthians. When he and I met earlier this year, he was amazingly insightful with recent trends and ideas–many of which have become foundational to my studies. Between the Oxford lecture (which was in March, I think) and now, Matthew and I have remained in sporadic contact through e-mail. Matthew has always shown incredible patience with my ‘newbie’ type questions and my occasional delays in correspondence, and he has been a wonderful sounding-board for ideas related to 1 Corinthians. It was simply good to see him again.
As the evening progressed, I found myself meeting a slew of entirely new people–both student and professor alike, and many of these professors were ones I deeply admired, which initially prompted feelings of worry. However, as mentioned before, the atmosphere of welcome proved to me to be opportunities for personal growth; and my wife’s presence with me and her supporting love were immensely comforting, which allowed me to be real and open with everyone I met. After a rather entertaining welcome from Andrew Clarke (the overseer for the conference) and Andrew Lincoln (the president of the conference), we broke for dinner. This proved to be beneficial in that I was immediately thrown into a context where being in contact with new people was inevitable. However, I found myself strangely calm.
Jenn and I sat with my other supervisor, Lloyd Pietersen, which meant we would be close to someone we knew. In front of us sat another PhD student called, Joe Baker who is working part-time on his research. The conversation between us was both relaxed and challenging. Challenging because Joe and I quickly became immersed in each other research projects, and I was deeply intrigued by his (rather ambitious) project, which is essentially a philosophical re-reading on Tom Wright’s narratival approach to the New Testament. Joe clearly sees the tasks before him and all that he must do to reach his goal; and, from what I can tell, he’s ready for the journey. The conversation was relaxed simply because of the company.
The evening, after dinner, closed with a main session, which was a lecture given by Todd Klutz (of the University of Manchester). The subject matter of Todd’s topic was clearly beyond my knowledge and I readily admit that I was lost about half way through the lecture. (His talk was on a particular interpretation of the so-called Eighth Book of Moses [in Papyri Graecae-Magicae XIII.1-734] and possible allusions to various Jesus traditions). It was at this point that my struggles with self-confidence began to re-emerge in a powerful way; and the darkness of the room was not helping. However, to myself, I prayed for comfort and asked for a mind of receptivity–not only for what was being discussed but also for being okay with the fact that my knowledge of such things was completely lacking.
The evening session ended and I began to make my way back to the room to see my lovely wife. (She was exhausted from travelling and as a result did not want to attend the lecture). Before making it out of the conference hall, I met one final person: Richard Ascough (of Queen’s Theological College [Canada]). I overheard Richard having issues with the internet service in the room–issues that I too was having earlier that afternoon. We chatted briefly about possible solutions to our similar plights and then parted ways, but not without the promise of talking more over the weekend. Richard was yet another example of the congenial make-up of the conference. On my short walk back to the room, I was able to reflect on all that had happened and how God constantly provided the comfort I needed. I said a quiet prayer of thanks and asked for strength to make it through another day and a willingness to learn and grow from this experience.
JVC earphones vs. Amica washing machine
I have an occasional bad habit of leaving things in my pockets (e.g. kleenex, scraps of paper, gum wrappers, chapstick, etc) only to be found again on the wrong side of the wash-cycle. I have tried to do better with making sure the pockets are empty before laundry-time, but I admittedly slip from time to time.
Recently (i.e. today), a load of wash was done and all of my pockets were checked beforehand with the exception of one. I have an old scrub-top that is a perfect lounging shirt which has a pocket on the front. While working the other day, I was using my earphones to enjoy some wonderful tunes generated by the masterfully talented Yo-yo Ma. At some point, most likely lunch time, the earphones come out and I tucked them away into my scrub-top pocket . . . and forgot about them, until this evening.
When the washing machine was emptied, my wife casually said, “Umm, Carl. . .” and alerted me to the jumbled mess of the earphone cord protruding from the bundle of clothes. We both laughed and then wondered: “Do they still work?” I could not resist testing it. So I carefully inserted the plug into the laptop and kicked up the volume–mainly because I didn’t want to stick those things in my ears after they’ve been through an entire wash-cycle–and waited for the result. To my complete astonishment, the earphones worked perfectly; in fact, Yo-yo Ma sounded better (if that’s even possible).
So, JVC earphones: 1; Amica washing machine: 0.
Authors
carl sweatmanThose who have wandered here
