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.

Curious feature of gender-inclusive language

My wife and I love the show, Boston Legal (it’s a guilty pleasure).  While watching it the other night, something struck me as rather odd.  The modern world, with near dogmatic insistence, promotes language that does not prioritise or marginalise a particular gender; however, it is not evenly applied.  Here are two examples taken from a single episode of our beloved show.  To set the scene: both examples, from different points in the story, involve a jury issuing a verdict for a particular case.

The first one has a male being addressed by the judge:

Judge: ‘Mr foreman, has the jury reached a unanimous verdict?’

The second one has a female being addressed:

Judge: ‘Madam foreperson, has the jury reached a unanimous verdict?’

The apparently masculine suffix ‘-man’ attached to the otherwise simple term, ‘foreman’ is what ostensibly creates the dilemma for gender-inclusive language.  Therefore, those advocating the need for such language have (seemingly) neutralised the term by adding the generic suffix, ‘-person’.  With this move, the logic behind it is that the otherwise apparently offensive term now applies equally well to both genders.

However, this newer more neutralised term is not evenly and consistently applied.  The new version only applies when speaking of women.  One would think that the respective titles of ‘Mr’ or ‘Madam’ would give the new gender-free ‘foreperson’ the needed gender association.  Thus, if we are being absolutely fair to the causes for gender-inclusive language, it should be, ‘Mr foreperson . . .’; but it doesn’t.  Very strange, that.

The Shifting Shadow of the Galilean*

This week, the Daily Mail (online version) touted an upcoming documentary on Jesus visiting Glastonbury (England) at some point in his life.  (See here for the article: Was Jesus taught by the Druids of Glastonbury).  The documentary presents a ‘new’ theory about Jesus’ life where the New Testament fails to give any insight; and that theory is (in case you opted not to read the article): Jesus was taught by the Druids either before he was 12 years old or some time between being 12 and starting his Galilean ministry–when he was around 35.**

I must admit that I laughed hysterically at first, but then I found myself sighing sorrowfully because it turned out to be serious.  My sorrow relates to the fact that the individuals making this documentary are absolutely serious about what is otherwise absolutely hysterical, simply because it’s just bad history and no one would entertain such ahistorical theories as representing reality; however, that is precisely what these individuals have done. In true Sweatman fashion, I want to examine in detail the claims being made in this article, which are synopses of what is to be expected in the documentary.

First, there is the claim that, ‘As a book of record the New Testament doesn’t do well on the early life of Jesus Christ.’  Fair enough; but when did it become necessary for it to do so?  Saying that it ‘did not do well’ implies a failure of intent; however, that assumes that the Gospel writers intentionally set out to compose comprehensive biographies of Jesus’ life.  To assume that ancient biographies had to be comprehensive is to be presumptuous and anachronistic.

Second, there is the implication that the (‘new’) Glastonbury theory has its roots in a poem by William Blake.  If this is indeed the impetus behind the documentary, then it ranks alongside the theory that St Paul was really a Roman spy–a theory whose genesis came from a typo.  Blake’s poem is certainly moving and it carries a spiritual resonance to which I’m sure we can all relate (on various levels).  However, I have my doubts that Blake intended his poem to be taken as a historical possibility–let alone a historical reality.

Third, the theorists involved with the documentary make the rather bold claim that

it’s perfectly plausible [that] the Messiah made an educational trip to Glastonbury . . . [and] that Jesus accompanied his supposed uncle, Joseph of Arimathaea, on a business trip to the mines of the South-West.  Whilst there, it is claimed that he took the opportunity to further his maths by studying under druids.

(This is where I began laughing hysterically).  Part of my concern with this sort of claim is the fact that they have touted it to be ‘perfectly plausible.’  Had they said, ‘possible’, I don’t think I would have laughed as hard.  In very general terms, if something is ‘possible’, then it carries with it a level of reasonable doubt.  If something is ‘plausible’, then there are no good reasons to doubt its possibility.  That the theorists of the documentary have tagged on the sacred adverbial-adjective ‘perfectly’ to their claim of plausibility, this suggests that there are absolutely no good reasons to doubt their claims.  Oh, but there are.

Related to this is the claim made by one of the theorists, Dr Gordon Strachen:

it is plausible Jesus came to further his education.  The country [i.e. England] is thought to have been at the forefront of learning 2,000 years ago, with mathematics particularly strong.

To wit the other theorist, Ted Harrison, adds:

If someone was wanting to learn about the spirituality and thinking not just of the Jews but also the classical and Greek world he would have come to Britain, which was the centre of learning at the time.  Jesus was a young man curious to find out about all sorts of things.  We know there is a huge gap in the life of Jesus between when he was born and when his ministry started.  He would have come [when he was a boy] to learn what was being taught about astronomy and geometry which was being taught at ‘universities’ run by druids at the time.

With regard to Strachen’s comments: again, had he said ‘possible’, it would not have been as funny.  However, the plausibility that Jesus travelled to England to further his education is rife with historical, theological, and practical problems–all of which make such a historic trip unlikely (i.e. implausible).  Let’s assume for the moment that both Strachen and Harrison affirm the basic historicity of the Gospel story and that what is noted about Jesus’ early life carries a degree of reliability.  If that is the case, then we can agree basically on the following details:

1. Jesus was born c. 6 BCE
2. visited by the Magi c. 5 BCE
3. taken to Egypt by his parents shortly thereafter and remained in Egypt till c. 3 BCE
4. returned to Palestine (namely, Nazareth) c. 2 BCE where the text suggests that the holy family established residence (see Mt 2.23)

The parallel account in Luke supports not only an established residency in Nazareth but also a continual presence in Palestine (see Lk 2.39-41).  The potential loophole in this account is that Lk 2.41 does not explicitly mention Jesus going with his parents to Jerusalem every year.  (That he did has to be assumed/implied).  Thus, the theorists of the documentary insert the possibility that Joseph of Arimathaea, being an uncle, took Jesus to England for further education.  However, the Gospels never refer to Joseph of Arimathaea as being related to the holy family in any way.  All it says is that Joseph was a ‘rich man’ and ‘disciple of Jesus’ (see Mt 27.57; cf. Lk 23.50-52; Jn 19.38).  Therefore, to conjecture that Joseph of Arimathaea was the uncle of Jesus and did take him to England for further education is to ignore or distort the data on hand for the sake of establishing a theory.

However, in case this conjecture doesn’t work, they have a backup hypothesis: Jesus ‘may have made the visit when in his teens or 20s and used his earnings as a carpenter to fund it.’  While I grant that the biblical account of Jesus’ life during this period is extremely vague (okay: dead silent), this sort of hypothesis betrays the anachronistic way in which Strachen and Harrison are going about their investigation.  Jesus was not like the teens and 20s of modern day Britain who do save their earnings in order to blow it at Glastonbury.  Equally, while carpentry was a reputable business in the ancient world–primarily because of its practicality–it would not have been lucrative enough to allow Jesus to save money in order to fund a trip to England, let alone sustain living costs for the duration of his stay.

With regard to Harrison’s comments: first, there is an assumption that educational centres in England were superior to those found elsewhere in the Roman Empire–especially in the fields of spirituality, astronomy, geometry, etc.  What is more, the assumption maintains that England would have been the likely candidate for Jesus to learn about Jewish spirituality.  This is problematic for a number of reasons.  One, there is no evidence of a Jewish settlement in England before or during Jesus’ life (nor slightly afterwards, as far as I can tell).  Philo of Alexandria (c. 20 BCE–c. 50 CE) lists many affluent Jewish settlements in the Empire; England is not on that list.

Second, assuming that the Druids of England knew about Jewish spirituality in some form; it would be second-hand at best.  Third, and most important, the Druids were staunch pagans and their religious/theological views would have repulsed devout Jews.  Therefore, what would be the attractive cause for Jesus, a Jew, to travel thousands of miles to learn second-hand Jewish spirituality from a group of pagans?  Answer: none.  Rejoinder: Jesus went to study astronomy and geometry to enhance his carpentry skills?  Surrejoinder: why would Jesus travel thousands of miles to learn carpentry techniques from the Druids when he could learn immediately from his (step-)father?  More to the point, why preface that claim with the idea that learning spirituality by the Druids is a worthy endeavour?

The claims of Strachen and Harrison that England was ‘at the forefront of learning’ and ‘the centre of learning at that time’ become burdened under the sheer weight of historical evidence.  The Greek historian, Strabo (c. 63 BCE–23 CE) makes reference to both the land of Britain and the Druids.  Specifically, he notes that they are a strange lot, similar to the Celts but more simplistic and barbarous.  He also opines that the do not possess basic knowledge of cheese-making, horticulture and husbandry.   What is immediately striking about Strabo’s account of is that nothing is ever said about Britain being a known place of learning.  This is curious in light of the fact that he does mention other renown schools in the Empire: one in the city of the Megarians (Geography, 9.1.8), one in Rhodes (14.1.48); and ones in Tarsus, Athens, and Alexandria (14.5.13).

P. Cornelius Tacitus (c. 56–117 CE) only refers to the Druids as being overly religious and superstitious.  In fact, his comments are rather critical and mocking (see Annals 14.30; Histories 4.54).  Similar to Strabo, nothing is said about either Britain or the Druids being sources of renown learning.  G. Suetonius Tranquillus (c. 69–c. 150 CE) makes a passing reference to the Druids, although what he says is overtly negative–i.e. that the Emperor Claudius despised the ritual practices of the Druids and banished them (Live of Claudius, 25).  Again, nothing about educational achievements.  On the more blunted end, Diogenes Laertius (c. 3rd cent. CE) criticises those who believe that philosophy originally came from the Druids (Lives, 1.1).  While this criticism does not say anything about British or Druidic learning centres, it does reveal sentiments about the potential quality of such centres.

On the slightly more sympathetic side is Julius Caesar (100–44 BCE) who recognises the Druids as men of learning, mostly in the areas of religious knowledge and basic legal practices–albeit in a religious context (Gallic Wars, 6.13).  He also praises them for their abilities to memorise large amounts of information as well as write in Greek when necessary (6.14).  The majority of Caesar’s observations describe the basic theological beliefs of the Druids and their high respect for nature (see 6.14); however, nothing is said about places of learning either in Britain or amongst the Druids.  With a similar emphasis, Pliny the Elder (23–79 CE) speaks to the Druids’ superstitious practices and beliefs and that such things were known throughout portions of the Empire (see Natural History, 24.62; 30.4; cf. 16.95).  However, Pliny notes that it was a good thing that the Druids were relegated to the boundaries of the Empire–ostensibly because of the contemptible nature of their superstitions (see 30.4).  Also, Pliny says nothing about renowned educational opportunities coming from England.  His comments tend toward the aesthetic appeal of the island (see 4.30).

Finally, Ammianus Marcellinus (c. 325–c. 390 CE) notes the esteem attributed to the Druids as ‘being loftier than the rest in intellect’ (Rerum Gestarum, 15.9.8).  However, this is virtually everything Marcellinus has to say about the Druids–aside from a passing comment about their rejection of all things human (i.e. they are not materialists, per se) and their belief in the immortality of the soul.***  Nothing in Marcellinus points to the Druids having universities or Britain being a ‘centre of learning’, as Harrison believes.  In fact, all of the above references to Britain in general and the Druids in particular seem to point in the other direction.  The plausibility of this portion of Strachen and Harrison’s theory is want for historical support; thus, it cannot be seen as plausible.

In what appears to be a ‘last-ditch’ attempt to prove their case, Strachen and Harrison appeal to a recognised legend that Jesus presumably built a chapel in Glastonbury, which is supposedly known by St Augustine.  They point out that Augustine allegedly wrote to the Pope of the time ‘to tell him about it’–ostensibly to have it noted as a sacred site needing the verification and protection of the Church.  However, two problems emerge with this claim.  First, which St. Augustine is in mind, because historically there are two?  There is the famed Augustine of Hippo (354-430 CE), who is generally the more recognised one when his name is given without qualification (as in the article).  Then there is Augustine of Canterbury (d. 604 CE), who was sent by Pope Gregory the Great to south England in order to evangelise the pagans of the area.  It must be this latter Augustine simply because nothing in the writings of the former say anything about knowledge of a Jesus-built chapel in Glastonbury.  However, this brings us to the next problem.

Second, as a fellow, more astute blogger has noted, the attribution of Augustine knowing about this alleged chapel and reporting it to the Pope can only be traced to the 12th century CE–and that is something recognised by people who claim that Jesus did visit Glastonbury.  Thus, the historicity not only of the letter but also the claim itself are certainly suspect.  Once again, the plausibility of Strachen and Harrion’s theory becomes more unlikely in view of the historical evidence, which is precisely what is needed if one is going to claim something as ‘plausible.’

The article concludes with a striking admission (and a painful qualifier): ‘Mr Harrison said there were “no archaeological finds” to back up the myth, but “by exploring the legend, we are opening up a fascinating new insight into early Christianity”.’  First, a key reason for the lack of archaeological evidence is the simple fact that the story is (admitted to be) a myth.  This would be tantamount to historians seeking out tangible clues for the epic battle at Minas Tirith.  Nothing is going to be found because it did not happen in real history.  Second, while it is true that legends do reveal interesting insight into what a particular group of people believe, legends often emerge several generations after the historical events upon which the legends are based.  Moreover, it would be wrong to assert that the legends accurately reflect the historical events in question.  To do so would negate the meaning of the term ‘legend’ as well as distort the meaning of this historical events.

Thirdly, and I’m done after this one: Strachen and Harrison are not opening up ‘a fascinating new insight into early Christianity.’  They are reopening up a spurious (and rather boring) legend promulgated during a period of Christian history far removed from the historical events which claims to nuance such events.  This methodology was tried once before and it failed miserably.  It was called, The Da Vinci Code.  To say that this legend of Jesus visiting England in order to further his education and build a chapel in Glastonbury has relevance for early Christianity is to reveal an anachronistic approach to history as well as a painful misunderstanding of what early Christianity is.

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* For those paying attention, yes I have adapted the title of G. Theissen’s wonderful historical novel.
** I am sure this age will bother some people because it goes against the traditional theories, which suggest 30 years old (because Jesus presumably died when he was 33).  However, based on historical clues and calendrical data, the 35(ish) suggestion is more likely.  We can discuss this in more detail if you like.
*** The Druids maintain the belief in the transmigration of the soul (see Caesar, Gallic Wars, 6.14)

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.

More to beauty

Facebook has a video beginning to make it way through the ethereal world.  Admittedly, this video is not that new as it is a part of a larger campaign that started a few years ago.  Before reading any further, I would recommend that you see the video first and then come back to this post.  (Don’t worry, I’ll wait for you).

Welcome back.  Here’s my two cents. The video, prior to the concluding commentary, does reveal a systemic problem within modern culture, which is: beauty is superficial and can be easily manufactured (i.e. it’s not real, or it’s simply faked). This type of cultural promotion is indeed damaging to people’s (namely women’s) sense of self-worth and should not be condoned. However, the concluding commentary does not address this problem at the systemic level, which is what I was hoping it would do.

The final tag line of, “Every girl deserves to feel beautiful just the way she is” is basically true but not necessary helpful because feelings are in themselves perceptions (i.e. not reality) and perceptions (not to mention preconceptions), in this regard, are what people use to determine beauty. As long as perceptions and/or feelings are that which define reality, then what is real will never be properly defined–let alone have true, lasting significance.

The website “Campaign for Real Beauty” is well-intentioned but equally unhelpful in the long run. Nearly every page simply talks about “widening the perception [or definition] of what is beautiful” so that people (namely women) can feel better about themselves; however, all this does is simply include other superficial variables into what defines beauty.  In other words: wrinkles, grey hair, fat bodies, stubby legs, pasty-whiteness, etc were once excluded from definitions of beauty but are now included because the new perception regarding these things has widened enough to include them.

The problem for me, however, is that this new and wider definition simply exchanges one superficial perception for another, which ultimately does not constitute a real change in definition.  There is a much larger issue that is being overlooked in this process, and that is: what is beauty, and what constitutes a beautiful person?  If beauty is defined as that which is aesthetically pleasing, then a person’s perception of beauty is at the mercy of that which determines aesthetic appeal–whether that be the narrow definition of Hollywood or the wider definition of Campaign for Real Beauty; however, either determination is ultimately superficial in how it understands and defines beauty.

True beauty needs to be understood and defined in accordance with what it is and not how it is perceived.  A person is beautiful because they are beautiful, not because they appear to be (or feel); thus, definitions of true beauty take into account the whole person, which means including more than superficial features that may or may not be aesthetically pleasing.  While a person may be grouped into the newer and wider definition of beauty advocated by the Campaign, who they truly are might in fact be contrary to what is truly beautiful.  In other words, a person may be considered “beautiful” because they are fat, wrinkly, grey-headed, stubby-legged, and/or pasty-white; however, that same person could be vile, crude, vengeful, deceptive, self-absorbed, and/or downright evil–i.e. features that hardly represent that which is truly beautiful.

As they say, “Beauty is skin deep, but ugly goes right to the bone.”

Thinking out loud

According to a recent poll, Americans (at least, those polled) are becoming disillusioned with the hopes and dreams promised to them by Obama when he ran for office.  Or, to put it more bluntly: Americans (i.e. those polled) are becoming more and more impatient in waiting for the fruits of the (overly) touted ‘change’ which so dominated Obama’s campaign.  The obvious question would be: what is causing this disillusionment?  While I have my own perspective to this question, three options should be noted first with regard to this issue of ‘change’:

1. The promised change was nothing more than a politcal claim made for the sake of winning voters.  If we honestly think that politicians do not say things in order to win an election, then we are sadly foolish. (The first half of this statement is not meant to be all-inclusive; it simply notes a general tendency which has become a part of the political landscape).  If this is the case, then the fault really goes both ways–i.e. the POTUS who duped everyone and the voters who actually believed the rhetoric of change.
2. The promised change is not what people expected.  This should be considered a likely possibility, especially since the definition of ‘change’ was both ambiguous and self-fulfilling (i.e. the definition kept changing) throughout the campaign.  Such things generally lead people to create ideas of their own, which often times end up not being in line with what actually occurs.
3. The promised change simply has not arrived yet.  It is nearly axiomatic that the effects of decisions/plans made during one administration are not often felt until the next.  Thus, the full effect of the change is still in process.

However, I wonder if the cause for the disillusionment also stands behind these three options?  The cause I have in mind is the (modern) ever-growing propensity for impatience.  Or, to come at this from another direction: the cultural fascination with ‘entitlement’ and immediate self-gratification has instilled–knowingly or not–a general attitude of impatience.  (Sadly, in some recent advertisements, this attitude of impatience is being highly praised, glorified, and depicted as normative and even virtuous).  Thus, when things do not happen when we want them to happen and not in way we want them, we throw up our arms in disgust and with feelings of betrayal–both of which typically have no justification.  And when such things happen, it is no small wonder that real progress (or, dare I say ‘change’?) becomes stymied and things of lasting value remain elusive.

Best case scenario would be the third option.  While I do not agree politically with Obama on a few issues, I am willing to give him the benefit of the doubt with what he plans to do.  More times than not, strategies and decisions made by individuals in ‘power’ tend to be either confusing or misunderstood by those not in ‘power’.  The cause for both the confusion and misunderstanding is the same: there is a much bigger picture to be considered, and those without a national vantage point are simply unable to see the details of that bigger picture.  Or, to change the metaphor a little: those in valley do not have the perspective of the one on a hill.  The decisions, guidance, and direction given by the one on the hill might appear to be meaningless, irrational, and even dangerous for the one in the valley; but again, the interpretation of the one in the valley is based on a limited perspective.  Patience must be exercised in the face of the seemingly meaningless, irrational, and dangerous.  Impatience makes matters worse.