The Difference that Funding Makes
I have just learned that I have been awarded the major grant that I applied for: the Graduate Research Mentorship. The program provides a large stipend (even more than a TAship) and tuition remission. In the age of California’s budgetary apocalypse, student protests over UC tuition hikes, and my department’s inability to pay for copies of classroom handouts, I am dumbstruck by my good fortune. The UCLA Graduate Division describes the program:
The Graduate Research Mentorship (GRM) Program is designed to assist students in acquiring and developing advanced research skills under faculty mentorship. The Program is open to doctoral students in the humanities, social sciences and other disciplines where students have little opportunity for academic apprentice appointments or other University funding relevant to their graduate training. An expected outcome is to increase the number of students who complete the PhD degree and who show promise as candidates for faculty appointments. Faculty mentors are expected to be in the same locale as the student participants and assist them with research leading to the development of a doctoral dissertation.
My project will deal with the social functions of apocalyptic thought in early Christian communities. My mentor will be Ra’anan Boustan. I explained in my proposal, “The topic of apocalyptic thought is a particularly nebulous research area, for which ten-week seminars do not provide ample time for processing. Working closely with Prof. Boustan on the relevant concepts and scholarship for an entire year would offer an invaluable opportunity in terms of my progress in the program and my ability to develop original insights in my field.” For me, this program will come on the heels of my participation in the summer version of this grant (the “Graduate Summer Research Mentorship”) with my advisor, Scott Bartchy, on a related topic this summer.
The downside of taking this grant is that it means I will not teach next year. I love teaching. It is the most fulfilling thing that I do. But being a teacher and a researcher at the same time is like leading a double life (and that’s not even factoring my family life!). The two (teaching and researching) are both academic enterprises, but they often feel so disconnected — especially when I’m teaching Western Civ. (“Circa A.D. 843 to Circa 1715″) and doing research on the Deuteronomistic History, as I’m doing at the moment. How do I find time to immerse myself fully into two completely divergent topics in the span of a ten week quarter? I can’t. So, I come up with a compromise — such is the academic life.
Next year, this fellowship means that I won’t have to compromise on the time I devote to my research, and also that I can complete my Ph.D. earlier and, thus, find a teaching post somewhere sooner. One former UCLA Ph.D. student told me recently that receiving the GRM grant made him feel like he had a two year head start on his dissertation. That’s what I’m hoping for. Also, though, I have a couple language exams yet to take and then my comprehensive exams will be coming by the end of next year. I hope to have all of my exams completed before the 2011-2012 academic year (my fourth year at UCLA) begins. The GRM gives me the space to run with that task.
As my fellow Bruin, Kevin Scull, explains (see this post too), funding for our program is a bit of a buried treasure that you need to seek out. Nobody in my program is offered a guaranteed “funding package.” Hopefully, we can be an encouragement to other Ph.D. students out there to seek out that funding!
Entering the Mystery: “The ‘Lost’ Decade” and My Brain
I often wonder why it is that I am so drawn to apocalyptic thought in my research, not to mention why people seem to be paying more and more attention to the topic generally speaking (e.g., see this upcoming conference). What I consider my “bad romance” with apocalyptic thought began in the summer of 2006 in a course on early Judaism taught by James VanderKam. I simply read 1 Enoch and it was like the intellectual engines turned on. But today, I read an article in the Washington Post (HT: James McGrath), that gave me some broader context for why my brain might be so drawn to this mysterious line of research.
In that article, Hank Stuever interprets the run of ABC’s epic and mysterious “Lost” as an indicator of our collective identity for the past decade. Steuver notes, “It was the perfect show for our frustrated ’00s era, in which no one had to answer for anything much — not for the real estate and Wall Street busts, the levee floods, the bad war intelligence.” Widening the net further, he assesses: “At its most essential, the show was about an airplane crash, told from every possible angle. That’s also our story — wounded by the events of 9/11 and the controlled chaos that came with new battlefields and the worst economy in 70 years.” And still further defining our decade with “Lost”: “We’ll go on living in the future; the people of ‘Lost’ will forever belong to the 2000s, which some are already calling ‘the lost decade.’”
I don’t know who these people are that call the 2000s “the lost decade” — when I googled it, I got some things about Japan and investments — but the idea strikes a chord with me nevertheless, even if for not all the same reasons it does with Steuver. Going back even earlier than 9/11, our culture’s understanding of the decade began with bewildering anticipation about whether the first moment of 2000 would bring about the end of the world. The fanaticism that surrounded Y2K served as one of the cultural backdrops of my first year and a half in college.
Still, I didn’t realize my intellectual calling (as an academic) until my senior year of college, which was indeed the year of 9/11 and the subsequent upheaval of global politics. Academically, I struggled to find a truly satisfying research area. Meanwhile, as our 2000s culture began to explore–for whatever reason–television shows and movies of apocalyptic import, my brain got sucked into it all. Replacing my teenage obsession with Friends (perhaps my deepest connection with ’90s culture), my imagination was drawn towards shows like Lost, Heroes, Jericho, Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles, and now V and FlashForward. “Lost” began the year before I entered seminary.
Without a doubt, I appreciate working with concrete social issues, such as gender roles or economic stratification, in my research. But in the deepest core of my intellectual passions, my ultimate academic search is for complex, hidden mysteries. There is something I love about living with more questions than answers. Is that “Lost’s” effect on me or my attraction to “Lost” or both?
In any case, when people are all concerned about whether we will be “satisfied” with finale, I have a difficult time relating. For me, “Lost” was an apocalypse — an invitation to a world of hidden mysteries. But to be honest, just as I found my attraction to apocalyptic literature by entering the world 1 Enoch, I am more satisfied simply entering the mystery than I am with any attempt at explaining the mystery. For me, the “Lost” finale need not connect all the dots. Rather, I will simply mourn the loss of my biggest cultural partner in my research. Thankfully, I don’t think our culture is done with hidden mysteries.
Those Brits just don't get it (says John Collins)
In reading on apocalyptic things, I came across this fun bit by John J. Collins in Knowing the End from the Beginning: The Prophetic, The Apocalyptic, and their Relationships (note the use of “Apocalyptic” in the title), edited by Lester L. Grabbe and Robert Haak (T & T Clark):
Categories and definitions were the subject of sustained discussion in the 1970s and early ’80s, beginning with the work of Klaus Koch and Paul Hanson, and continuing through the SBL genres project and the Uppsala colloquium. One of the most widely shared points of agreement in that discussion was the use of ‘apocalyptic’ as a noun was a source of confusion, and that distinctions should be made between apocalypse as a literary genre, apocalypticism, whether as a social movement or as a worldview, and apocalyptic eschatology. It is true that these distinctions have not been embraced by British scholarship. In fact, there was very little British participation in those debates, and the objections to the use of ‘apocalyptic’ do not appear to have been grasped in that part of the world. [45]
He also clarifies that the objection to the use of “apocalyptic” as a noun is not grammatical, but because of the “intrinsic vagueness of the term.” Collins later adds, “To revert to this usage, in my view, is to set the discussion back to the state of confusion that prevailed before Koch wrote his monograph” (46). Oh ye British in “that part of the world”! Trying to confound us again, eh? There is a relevant discussion about this in the comments of a blog post on Ben Myers’ blog from awhile back, kicked off by Mike Bird’s comment (reflecting the trend that Collins has noted here) and reacted against by others.
I tend to side with Collins (and Mike Bird) here. It does provoke interesting questions related to transatlantic scholarly discussions, though. We already have a big enough problem crossing language barriers. And I must say that I find it amusing that Collins makes the point within a book using “apocalyptic” as a noun in its subtitle (which is what provoked Mike Bird’s comment in the aforementioned conversation).
I should note that I received this book courtesy of Abigail Cox at T & T Clark and it is on the docket to be reviewed! Thank you Abby!
Exam Quote: "Their Fantasy Temple"
The following was found on a midterm exam in response to an ID question on “Apocalyptic View of History”:
The Essenes eventually subscribed to the apocalyptic view of history as well, leaving Jerusalem for Qumran in anticipation of the destruction of the 2nd Temple they believed would happen, at which time they would return to build their fantasy temple.
Okay, so the idea is not without merit. I suppose the Qumran community is “fantasizing” about a restored Temple. They certainly write a great deal about its details, in the New Jerusalem text, for instance. But somehow, I just read “fantasy temple” and can’t suppress a chuckle. I can’t help associating “their fantasy temple” with Puff the Magic Dragon.
Apocalypticism and Destruction
Is destruction the defining characteristic of apocalyptic thought? If you look at the chart that I have included in a previous post, you see that “judgment/destruction of the wicked” is the only category that appears in every Apocalypse that is listed in the chart. This makes sense as a defining characteristic. Apocalyptic writing is a rallying cry, a kind of fantasy about the future that proclaims ultimate vindication of the righteous ones. Apocalyptic eschatology spurs on the faithful to remain faithful by reminding them that the unfaithful will get theirs in the end.
If destruction of some kind is a defining characteristic of apocalyptic eschatology, then can we make a judgment on whether Jesus or the Christ-confessing movement is “apocalyptic” in some way? That is, do the first century followers of Jesus of Nazareth have a sense that the end will bring destruction and judgment of the wicked? Without a doubt, yes.
The Jesus that we have presented in the Gospels is depicted as the Son of Man who will come to judge the nations. The “Sermon on the Mount,” for example has the statement: “Enter through the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the road is easy that leads to destruction, and there are many who take it” (Matt 7:13). Jesus speaks of the coming day of judgment in destructive terms: “Truly I tell you, it will be more tolerable for the land of Sodom and Gomorrah on the day of judgment than for that town” (Matt 10:15). “I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!” (Luke 12:49). The Son of Man condemns the wicked to a destructive end: “Then he will say to those at his left hand, ‘You that are accursed, depart from me into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels’” (Mt 25:41).
The only way around this is the way of the Jesus Seminar: Jesus never said that stuff. Whether he did or not, that is how he is remembered by the community of his followers. I am interested in whether the early followers of Jesus were motivated by apocalyptic eschatology and here I have no doubt that they were.
But is it all about destruction? Does the final destruction mean for the followers of Jesus that present behavior doesn’t matter? Without a doubt, no. For instance, note what Bartchy calls Jesus’ Nazareth Charter in Luke 4:18-19. Jesus appears to be announcing the purpose for his ministry. This includes bringing good news to the poor, proclaiming release for the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, letting the oppressed go free, and proclaim the year of the Jubilee. Here Jesus is quoting Isaiah 61:1-2 and yet he leaves out the statement immediately following: to proclaim “the day of vengeance of our God.” In his ministry, Jesus challenges the dominant cultural values and social codes of his situation, including honor and purity, as he touches and eats with those who are marginalized and thought to be unclean.
Apocalyptic eschatology in the Jesus movement is destructive, yes. But it also contains other strands of the prophetic view of history that seem to be more “optimistic.” For his early followers, Jesus embodied both destruction and the present transformation of behavior.
Defining Apocalypse, Apocalypticism, and Apocalyptic Eschatology
I had a conversation with a very intelligent and well-read UCLA undergrad yesterday about how we define the various terms used for eschatology and apocalyptic things in New Testament studies. I went back to a paper I wrote on the history of scholarship on apocalypticism and thought it might be good to post the brief section on definitions. When defining “apocalyptic” things, I tend to rely on the “established” apocalyptic scholars who have worked with the “official” conferences (like the Uppsala Colloquium) and meetings (like the Society of Biblical Literature Genres Project) on the topic. Folks who have participated in these efforts have contributed much to our understanding. So, here goes . . .
Though the term refers to an “uncovering” or “disclosure,” apocalypticism ironically remains one of the most mysterious topics in the study of the New Testament. A great deal of scholarly ink has been spilled simply attempting to define “apocalypticism” and its related terms.
Some basic terminological distinctions have come to be generally accepted in contemporary scholarship. Past scholarship relied heavily upon the term “apocalyptic” as a loose category and used the term more as a noun than an adjective. John J. Collins states, however, “More recent scholarship . . . distinguishes between apocalypse as a literary genre, apocalypticism as a social ideology, and apocalyptic eschatology as a set of ideas and motifs that may also be found in other literary genres and social settings.”1 These three categories are generally defined according to the class of texts generally accepted as “apocalyptic” by the consensus of modern scholarship (e.g., Daniel, Revelation, and 1 Enoch). The definitions of apocalypticism and apocalyptic eschatology, then, are connected to themes seen in the apocalypse genre. The definition of the genre put forth by Semeia 14 is widely cited and bears repeating in full here:
“Apocalypse” is a genre of revelatory literature with a narrative framework, in which a revelation is mediated by an otherworldly being to a human recipient, disclosing a transcendent reality which is both temporal, insofar as it envisages eschatological salvation, and spatial insofar as it involves another, supernatural world.2
This definition is seeking the lowest common denominator and therefore leaves out several features found in many apocalypses, such as pseudonymity or ex eventu prophecy. Building off the work of David Hellholm and David Aune who both reacted to Semeia 14, a group of scholars sought to expand this description to include social features of the apocalypse genre in Semeia 36:
[Such a work is] intended to interpret present, earthly circumstances in light of the supernatural world and of the future, and to influence both the understanding and the behavior of the audience by means of divine authority.3
Semeia 14 distinguishes between two main types of the apocalypse genre: the otherworldly journey (e.g., 1 Enoch 1-36) and the historical apocalypse (e.g., Daniel). In the former, the human is guided either in a heavenly ascent or a descent to the netherworld. The historical apocalypse presents a review of history relevant to its depiction of the final judgment, such as with the four kingdoms in Daniel.
The following is a helpful chart adapted4 from Semeia 14 to show the some of the characteristics that may be found in various apocalypses:
The fact that a judgment of the wicked is included in all of the texts in this chart adds weight to the suggestion that such texts had some intention to influence behavior, seen in the addition from Semeia 36. Apocalyptic eschatology, then, would be an ideology about the coming “end” which assumes some combination of these aspects. Likewise, apocalypticism is defined as a social movement of people motivated by these concepts.
__________
1 John J. Collins, The Apocalyptic Imagination: An Introduction to Jewish Apocalyptic Literature (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Eerdmans, 1998), 2.
2 J. J. Collins, ed., Apocalypse: The Morphology of a Genre (Semeia 14; Missoula, Mont.: Scholars Press), 9.
3 Adela Yarbro Collins, Early Christian Apocalypticism: Genre and Social Setting (Semeia 36; Missoula, Mont.: Scholars Press, 1986), 7.
4 J. J. Collins, Apocalyptic Imagination, 7.
Johannes Weiss in context
In a course I am currently taking on Post-Reformation and Modern Theology, the professor (Richard Muller) mentioned the relationship between Johannes Weiss and his father-in-law, Albrecht Ritschl. I first discovered this interesting relationship in my course on the history of NT scholarship. It’s a fascinating historical example.
Ritschl, the theological liberal (a descriptor, not a polemic), advocated an understanding of the “kingdom” that focused on morality and ethics (influenced by Kant and Schleiermacher). The little work of Johannes Weiss, Jesus’ Proclamation of the Kingdom of God, undermined the biblical basis for Ritschl’s work. Weiss found that Jesus’ teaching on the kingdom was not so much the foundation for a moral society, but was rather deeply eschatological. Apocalyptic eschatology was not a hot topic in biblical studies at the time. Quite the opposite. In fact, it was closer to an embarrassment to biblical scholars since contemporary apocalyptic movements are considered, well, silly.
So, Weiss bucks the theological trends of his own 19th century Germany, including the imposing shadow of his own father-in-law. Weiss did, however, wait a few years after the death of Ritschl to publish his work. He also did not disagree with Ritschlian theology. Rather, he believed that Jesus’ message was eschatological, but that Jesus’ immediacy was simply wrong. While he believes that Jesus was wrong about the kingdom, Weiss also thinks that the “Exalted Christ,” if he were to return, would now affirm the agenda of liberal theology and would bring about the transformation of society.
What impresses me so much about Weiss is that he went against the grain, even his own theological presuppositions, to pursue historical research of Jesus and the texts. What a rare occurrence!
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Elsewhere . . .- Blog titles beginning with "A" to "Z" on your reader Mark Goodacre
- Of making many books there is no end Chris Brady
- Free Online: The Liddell-Scott Jones Lexicon S and C
- Does Higher Criticism Attempt to “Destroy the Bible”? II agathos
- Steven J. Friesen and the Identity of Satan’s Throne in Pergamum alan
- Does Higher Criticism Attempt to “Destroy the Bible”? agathos
- Bloomsbury buys Continuum Mark Goodacre
- Imperial America Peter J. Leithart
- C.F.D. Moule on the Birth of the New Testament d. miller
- Responding to Kostenberger (with comparisons to Marshall) Jeremiah
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