kata ta biblia

a blog exploring Christian origins, biblical studies, social/cultural history, method, education and the journey through academia

Category: history

The Bible Is Not a History Textbook

I know that some people feel that they have to use the word “inerrancy” to describe the Bible in order to be part of their community of faith (generally, more conservative evangelical or even fundamentalist groups). I have friends who are graduate students in biblical studies and are in this boat. They are pushing the envelope in their research, willing to admit the Bible may not be 100% historically accurate, but they’d be willing to sign a statement of faith with the word “inerrancy” in it. They explain inerrancy in such a way that, as I see it, it really no longer is inerrancy.

I recently read this statement from one educational institution’s website. It is included in the statement of faith that any professor would have to sign. If you feel so inclined, you can google it. It’s not the institution itself that really concerns me right now, but the social phenomenon that it represents:

The Scriptures of the Old and New Testaments are without error or misstatement in their moral and spiritual teaching and record of historical facts. They are without error or defect of any kind.

Really? No error or defect of any kind? I mean, there’s no getting around this one. You can’t explain it away. So, if Matthew and Luke seem to conflict in regards to the dating of Jesus’ birth (Herod versus the census), then what? That’s going to destroy the foundation of the faith? This sets us up for the contradiction game. The atheists tout all these contradictions in the Bible and then the evangelicals swoop in and “harmonize” the “apparent” contradictions because, “apparently” their faith depends on it. When did the Bible become a history textbook?

Heck, history textbooks are not even history textbooks. That is, history textbooks are not “just the facts, ma’am.” They also include analysis, some claim of meaning, cause and effect, in the midst of those facts, events, etc. I tell my students in Western Civ. that, yes, you need to learn some facts in this class, but that’s not what we’re about. It’s about learning to think critically and analyze historical texts and assumptions: struggling to figure out what it all means.

If history itself is not simply a string of facts, then why must the Bible be? Doctrinal statements like the one quoted above do a disservice to the Bible. When we make the Bible into a collection of accurate facts and events more than a witness to the story of God and God’s people, we demolish the power of the message in the text. The beauty of the Bible is not historical accuracy, but its mysterious and profound story.

When we make the Bible into some grand textbook, some unquestionable repository of facts, we use it as the authoritative weapon to crack people’s heads with “truth.” But truth is not about an absence of factual errors or “defects” but about what gives meaning.

Thus, for instance, even if there were an ark of Noah that were found in Turkey (which there isn’t) what good would that do for our understanding of the meaning of the story of Noah?

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History, Theology, Ideology, Meaning and the Bible

Two of my friends, Matt Barnes and Chris Spinks, are having a lively discussion about meaning over on Matt’s blog. It all started when Matt (NT PhD student at Fuller Seminary) lamented over the “ideological” criticism that wants to do away with historical criticism. He suggested that there is no way to determine valid readings without historical tools. In the comments, I pushed back a wee bit, suggesting that historical scholars can come to a wide variety of “meanings” of many texts using the exact same methodology with the same level of skill. So, does historical research really give us the definitive meaning that we long for?

Then Chris chimed in–he did his dissertation at Fuller Seminary on theological interpretation and now is an editor at Wipf & Stock–with a much stronger push back than I had and with much greater logic. Chris has thought in detail about these issues much more than I have. Here is a fabulous set of questions from Chris:

Still not sure what you mean by “valid”? I’m not sure what are the criteria for validity. How do you know when you’ve said something about the Bible that is invalid? (These questions should not be interpreted to mean that I believe all statements are valid. I raise them out of a genuine desire to know. I think this notion of validity may be the fly in the ointment for us.)

Since the comments got unweildy, Matt moved Chris’ main points and his own response to their own post.

I generally understand and relate to the thoughts of both Matt and Chris. Though I am being trained as a social historian of texts, I do not feel I have to guard my historical-critical territory. I am theologically trained too. And I am an Anabaptist. And a feminist. Generally, I will try to come to as objective a conclusion as possible in my historical research (which is quite muddy when dealing with ancient texts). But then I move from there to consider the implications of that reading from my various perspectives–or my own singular blend of various perspectives.

One of the nice things about the discussion between Matt and Chris thus far is its civility. Check it out.

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Two Views of History: Apocalyptic and Prophetic/Deuteronomic

In his survey courses at UCLA, Scott Bartchy often highlights the difference between the “prophetic view of history” and the “apocalyptic view of history.” As he outlines the topic, the prophetic view sees history as a series of cycles, in which things get bad, but the people of Israel can reverse the downwards course of history through repentance (the “optimistic” view). The apocalyptic view basically sees history moving in a downward direction and nothing can stop it, calling for a cataclysmic and radical break in history and God’s intervention (the “pessimistic” view).

I have just been reading through Daniel and some of John Collins’ writing on the book. Collins makes a point that connects the supplication of Daniel in chapter 9–an odd passage in relation to the whole of Daniel–with Bartchy’s basic theory:

Most important, the theology of prayer contrasts sharply with the apocalyptic framework of Daniel. The logic of the prayer is that the affliction of Jerusalem is a punishment for sin and will be removed if the people repent and pray. Yet when the angel arrives he tells Daniel that the response was sent forth at the beginning of his supplication (in effect without waiting to hear it) and he emphasizes that the end is decreed. In short, events will follow their predetermined course, irrespective of prayer and repentance. Whether this prayer was deliberately placed here by the author to show this contrast or was inserted by a later redactor, it neatly highlights a fundamental difference between the apocalyptic view of history and the traditional Deuteronomic theology. In the apocalpytic view, the course of events is predetermined. This does not mean that there is no room for human freedom. People can determine their own destiny by their reactions, but they cannot change the course of events. [The Apocalyptic Imagination, 108-9]

What Bartchy calls the “prophetic” view seems equivalent to Collins’ mention of the “Deuteronomic” view. What do you think? Is this a fair dichotomy? Can we point to two distinct views of history in early Judaism and Christianity?

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"No One Mourns the Wicked"

A couple of weeks ago, I had the privilege of experiencing the musical Wicked at the Pantages Theatre in Hollywood. Not only did it meet my need for fun musicals with great music and big laugh lines, but I was also pleasantly surprised at its profound social message and its implications for historical research.

For those who don’t know, the musical is basically the story of Oz before Dorothy showed up. The “wicked witch of the west” (whose name is Elphaba) is really misunderstood and, also, she was college roommates with the “good witch”.  I think my favorite quote from the musical came from the wizard:

Elphaba, where I’m from, we believe all sorts of things that aren’t true. We call it – ‘history.’

A man’s called a traitor – or liberator
A rich man’s a thief – or philanthropist
Is one a crusader – or ruthless invader?
It’s all in which label
Is able to persist
There are precious few at ease
With moral ambiguities
So we act as though they don’t exist.

The song that opens and closes the musical repeats the line, “No one mourns the wicked.” Elphaba was a social activist who became such a threat to the powers that be (i.e., the wizard), that she was labeled the “wicked witch”. Thus, killing her became a good thing–not cause for mourning.

These themes of labeling are precisely what I will be working with in my doctoral studies. One could add to the wizard’s list: heretic or saint; exterminated criminal or martyr. How do groups, such as the early Christians, define their “enemies”? What motivates such labeling and language? What are the implications?

At any rate, I was pleased to find a place in popular culture where ambiguity is celebrated and its historical implications are even mentioned explicitly. It was good fun too.

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I'm goin' to UCLA!

ucla-sign.jpgI am pleased to report that I have been offered admission into the Ph.D. program in UCLA’s Department of History, to work under Scott Bartchy, and I have accepted the offer! The specialty is technically called “History of Religions,” but I will mostly be concentrating on Christian origins (especially the New Testament, but also beyond). I understand there was only one spot and I am tremendously honored to have been chosen.

Why UCLA? Several reasons, let’s go for bullet points (in no particular order):

  • I am excited to work with Scott Bartchy, who is a member of the Context Group and has significant experience in social concerns (e.g., slavery, gender roles, community formation) with the New Testament, using sociological and anthropological methods of historical research. I have become more and more drawn to social concerns in Christian origins and Bartchy will help me dive in with both feet. More on Bartchy below.
  • I also have a burgeoning interest in apocalypticism and Christian origins (as if anyone could define apocalypticism). I am especially interested in comparing and contrasting Jewish and Christian apocalyptic literature. A fairly recent addition to UCLA’s Departments of History and NELC, Ra’anan Boustan, has worked in Jewish apocalyptic issues and in Jewish-Christian relations, which is a great resource for my interests.
  • I have the freedom to piece together my own program, taking a combination of graduate seminars, directed readings, and even upper division undergrad courses not only in the History Department, but also in world-class departments like NELC and Classics.
  • Even though, I’m interested primarily in the New Testament and Christian origins, I can’t shake my interest in the history of Israel, subsequently of Judaism, and their literature. NELC faculty members such as Bill Schniedewind, especially with his interest in sociolinguistics of Hebrew and the social/cultural history of ancient Palestine, will provide deep wells of knowledge for my research.
  • In this program, I will get a well-rounded education, with some training in the history of western civilization generally and world religions.
  • The opportunity to do adjunct teaching in New Testament studies during my dissertation at several excellent Christian schools in the area. I think this will help prepare me by exposing me to various types of settings engaging students in biblical studies.
  • UCLA’s Department of History, according to US News and World Report, is one of the top ten history programs in the country. We all know that such rankings are tenuous, but it’s still nice. Check out the response to the rankings several years back by the American Historical Association.
  • I’ve met some of the graduate students who are studying in the history department and become friends with one of Bartchy’s grad students, Kevin Scull. They are happy and seem like tons of fun. That makes a world of difference!
  • Also, it doesn’t hurt that Fuller has plans to finish construction of their new snazzy library, which will apparently be the largest theological library on the Pacific Rim, in early 2009. I will certainly be frequenting Fuller’s campus while I’m in the program at UCLA.

Some more on Bartchy: He’s down to earth and has a balanced perspective. He’s a jazz pianist and marathon runner. Professor Bartchy is pretty progressive (see a couple articles on his earth-friendly home; and an online interview on his views of Christianity). He cares about his students, even the undergrads! (At a big research university like UCLA, that’s saying a lot.) Bartchy is involved in campus life, participating in panel discussions on religion. He founded and directs the Center for the Study of Religion at UCLA, which brings together disciplines that work on religion from various angles and which also offers an undergraduate major in religion. As I understand it, UCLA has been slow to consider religion as a valid field at a state sponsored university (with perhaps understandable skepticism), but Bartchy has been leading the way to establish the study of religion on campus. His dream would be the creation of a department of religious studies, where “we would have a budget, and we could call in scholars and very distinguished people who might not fit into the agenda of any particular department” except for a religion department. Bartchy is sensitive to various religious experiences in his teaching. In fact, he offers a helpful metaphor for dealing with difficult research issues: the moving around and adjustment of ideological buckets (maybe I’ll say more about that some other time). All of this to say that Scott Bartchy not only offers academic expertise that is quite relevant to my research interests, but he also models a kind of actively involved educator and mentor to students that I would like to become.

In one sense, my decision to study the New Testament within a history department is a statement about my modern sensibilities. While many are declaring the death of the historical method of interpreting the Bible, here I am signing up for historical scholarship on the Bible and the foundational period of Christianity and Judaism. I believe that postmodern-ish methods of interpreting the Bible from various minority perspectives and social locations are enormously helpful in both keeping the practice of the historical-critical method in check, while also offering unique points of view on how to apply our historical findings to the contemporary global situation. But, for myself, I would like to be firmly planted in the historical foundation of research before jumping too deeply into postmodern or postcritical approaches. What better way to do that than study the Bible and its historical context at one of the best history departments in the country?

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"Hearing" the Bible and presuppositions

Brueggemann makes an interesting comment in his preface to The Message of the Psalms. He opens the book itself with two quotes, one from John Updike and another from Jose Miranda, Communism in the Bible, which goes like this:

It can surely be said that the Psalter presents a struggle of the just against the unjust.

Brueggemann identifies Miranda at the “extreme” but wants to point to the helpfulness of Miranda’s thought. For example, he says, “With force and regularity the questions of justice, righteousness, and equity are regularly [sic] brought to the throne, often to our surprise” (13). But what really caught my eye as I was reading was actually Brueggemann’s qualification in using Miranda’s quote:

I have not set out to do liberation theology, as Miranda might urge, for I have been committed to no goal but to hear the Psalms. [12-3]

This strikes me as a powerfully healthy perspective for a Bible scholar. As for myself, I am continually drawn to the ideas of liberation theology in its struggle for justice. So, when I read the Bible, I will certainly be informed by that perspective and be attentive to themes of justice, power, etc. On the other hand, as I am developing my scholarly tools at this stage of my career, I must find ways to “hear” the biblical texts without molding them to fit my ideological perspective (I realize I’m departing a bit from Brueggemann’s intention here).

Many folks are, of course, announcing the death of historical methods in studying the Bible. We live in postmodernism now (or “pomo” for the cool kids among us) . . . how can one presume that we can find the meaning to anything? Is it not arrogant to say that we might be able to reach the “intention” of a text? Is not our assumption of the meaning we find in any text a product of our social and cultural location as well as our ideological presuppositions?

Perhaps. Perhaps not. Perhaps we need a balance here. I am going to go out on a limb and say that there are some things that history can tell us. I think most people would agree (Bruno Bauer excepted) that Jesus actually existed as a real human being. We can discover certain things about the social, political, and cultural world that Jesus and his followers may have inhabited. Sure, we can debate about the meaning of our findings (this is the work of scholarship), but should we just throw our hands up in the air and say that our debates get us nowhere, let’s all just read the texts from our own perspectives? I don’t think so.

On the other hand, postmodernism and ideological criticism gives us a helpful corrective: we can’t know everything. Like my friend, Matt, I’m inclined to say it is helpful to recognize our presuppositions in our research. I think that if we are honest with ourselves and know what we would like to see in the texts, we can become more productive scholars. So, I am an Anabaptist with affections for liberationist and feminist readings of the biblical texts. I then seek out texts that challenge those perspectives and try to, as Brueggemann states, “hear” them.

I suppose what I now have to be careful of is that I don’t go so far to the extreme of looking for texts that challenge my perspective that I am more predisposed to see challenges than otherwise.

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