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.
Preaching, Research, and Breast Milk
Yesterday, I had the honor of preaching at my own church. I felt a little extra pressure knowing that I see these people quite often and I don’t want to walk around knowing everybody thinks I preached a terrible sermon. Overall, the sermon seemed to go well–aside from the California heat of the sanctuary and a busy service. Though, I did totally botch up the benediction. What I appreciated about the sermon, though, was not merely its apparent “successful” delivery, but the opportunity to make some complicated stuff more accessible.
Somehow, I was assigned a passage that relates directly to themes I am currently addressing in my research. The text was Acts 2:37-47. The first part is the response of the Jerusalem crowds to Peter’s sermon and the second part is one of the famous descriptions of the early community life: sharing of goods, fellowship, etc. In my research, I am looking into sectarian impulses and mission impulses. In this passage, we have mission and we also have a strong internal community (I hesitate to use “sectarian”). Somehow there is a dialectic between the two. I find the combination intriguing. It’s not simply a “city on a hill” community–”Hey, look at how great we are! Wanna join up?” But there is an active, uh, “recruitment” initiative. It’s like a Billy Graham Crusade meets Menno Simons.
Mennonites tend to do better with the community part of this passage than the mission part, so I focused on the “mission” part as a challenge. The process of preparing the sermon, though, helped ground me a little bit. I think it has affected my perspective on my overall research, but I haven’t quite figured that out yet.
What an interesting journey this is–my career as a scholar of my own sacred texts. Last night, as I was in bed flipping through my Bible and considering the sermon and my research, I turned to my wife and said, “I love the Bible.” She handed me a bottle of pumped breast milk and asked me to go put it in the fridge. Life goes on. . .
Summer Research Mentorship Grant
Last week I learned that I was approved for UCLA’s Summer Research Mentorship Grant. I was a little worried about it–what, with the California state financial apocalypse and all. But the good news is that I will have the opportunity to work with Ra’anan Boustan on my apocalyptic obsession this summer, unhindered by all the demands of regular academic quarters.
This summer will be my first “break” in four years. Fuller Seminary has you work around the clock, all year long. At UCLA, I am glad to have some flexibility with my summer. So, I am looking forward to having some extra time to do “daddy daycare,” as my friend Kevin calls it, while I also focus my academic attention solely upon apocalyptic writings (and German). No classes. And UCLA is paying me for it. Can’t complain with that.
Boustan’s current seminar will flow into the summer mentorship nicely, since I am already being introduced to his perspective and much of the relevant literature on the topic. In case you’re wondering about what I’m doing with apocalyptic eschatology in my research, I seem to be narrowing in upon the idea of identity formation: How is apocalyptic expectation related to identity construction in early Judaism and Christianity? Such is the topic of my SBL paper for this November. This is the direction I expect to go with my dissertation. I plan to keep my cards pretty close to my chest as far as specifics, but I will say that there is no monolithic answer to my question.
Thinking about the "ugh" and the "mmm"
Since the annual meeting for the Society of Biblical Literature (SBL) is coming up later this month, and it’s my first run-in with the bigwig conference, it may be a good time for me to think about what I am interested in pursuing as a potential scholar. What captures my attention, passions, and interests in the field of biblical studies? I’m still trying to figure this out myself, so I’m just going to do a list format here. And maybe I should start with what I don’t want to do, since that’s easier to know.
Things that make me go “ugh…”:
- Highly speculative historical reconstruction of events: What is the dating for Paul’s various letters to the Corinthian churches? Did the exodus really happen and, if so, when? What were the origins of the Dead Sea Scrolls community and who was the “Wicked Priest”? It’s not that I don’t appreciate the work that others do in trying to figure these things out, but it’s just not my bag, baby. These actually are pretty tame as far as speculation goes. Generally, the more speculative it is, the more abhorrent I find it.
- Source and redaction criticism: Did one definitive “Q” source exist (that is, a source used by both Matthew and Luke) and of what did it consist? What parts of the Pentateuch were written by the J, E, D, and P sources? Again, not bad work, but not for me.
- Highly philosophical interpretive methods: Highfalutin language and incomprensible systems and grids is a major turn off. I do like a bit of poststructuralism in moderation, but for me, it can sometimes skate the edge of boredom.
- Historically disconnected and overly postmodern “reader-response” criticism: Boy if that doesn’t show my bias, eh? I don’t like history to reign supreme in hermeneutics, but I also don’t think that each individual reader is the be all and end all of the interpretative endeavor.
- Solely ideological criticism: I am a feminist and at times I like to dance with… (no, not with the devil in the pale moonlight)… liberation theology. I think that it goes over-the-top, however, when it is an undergirding hermeneutical method. I appreciate the work that some feminists and liberationists are doing to ask the difficult questions, but I worry about losing historical perspective . . . similar to my concerns about reader-response criticism.
Things that make me go “mmm…”:
- Jesus: This is a little complicated. I’m not into a ton of speculation about the “historical Jesus,” but I don’t mind it as much as other speculative issues. I’m more intrigued by how Jesus is remembered by the New Testament documents and what that means for the history of the church and for Jesus followers today. But I do enjoy thinking about Jesus’ historical and cultural context. This is the purpose for historical research for me: not figuring out exactly how things happened, but pondering the significance of the surrounding culture (especially early Jewish culture).
- Anabaptist hermeneutics: What does critical New Testament scholarship mean when interpreted through the lens of a radical lived-out faith community? For example, what do we do with the early chapters of Acts and the Sermon on the Mount?
- Intertexuality: What is the relationship between various texts? As far as specific textual relationships go, having taken VanderKam’s course on early Judaism, I’m particularly interested in Second Temple Judaism. I’m also interested in texts that have no direct link (that we know of) and yet still share similar language and themes.
- Narrative or literary criticism: I like looking at the final form of the text in Scripture and wondering what it means, rather than contemplating what its source was and how it came to be… blah, blah, blah.
- Canonical criticism: What is the relationship of this text within the larger canon and what might it have meant to the community which pulled it together? I like the emphasis on community here. Inspired community formed the canon and hopefully an inspired community interprets it. My former pastor and newly inaugurated Goshen College president, Jim Brenneman (who studied with James Sanders) has dragged me a little closer to canonical issues.
- Apocalyptic literature: The last year or so of seminary life has really hit home the idea that apocalyptic literature was not an escape from present requirements but a motivation to “stay the course,” as it were. I’ve fallen in love with Matthew 25 and I think I could do a dissertation just on that text!
- Second Temple Jewish literature: I mentioned this above, but I think it deserves its own bullet point. I really enjoy reading about Jewish ideas around the time of Jesus and the early church. I can see myself getting into rabbinic literature at some point, but I’m not there yet.
- Some text criticism: Though you might think it too laborious for one such as myself, I nevertheless do enjoy doing some nitty gritty textual research. I really like some of the things I’ve read from Bart Ehrman (even though we don’t hang our hat on the same theological presuppositions).
In sum, I am not enthused by a lot of historical speculation, but don’t like total historical apathy. In that way, I would hope for some balance between the extremes. Most of my “mmm” category entails thinking about interpretation. Historical context is good only in service to our reading of the biblical text, not the other way around. At least that’s my way of looking at it. At the end of the day, the most important question to me is: what do we do with the words and narratives of Scripture?
To be perfectly honest, though, what really excites me is working through issues with other people. My eyes are more towards teaching, communicating, and discussing difficult things about biblical interpretation than it is making a name for myself on the details of lonely scholarly work. But you have to go through the latter to get to the goal of the former. And it’s not that I’m terribly adverse to
the academic minutia, that just isn’t my focus. Some of it is more interesting than other parts, but I don’t want to get lost in the abyss of research while forgetting the joy of the community.
[By the way, the pictured teacher is Brian Smith at Messiah College (my esteemed alma mater). Brian is hands-down and without-a-doubt the most significant inspiration that I have in becoming a teacher of biblical studies. He's an OT guy, but that's okay. Some of us need to take a look at the introduction to the New Testament 
KIDDING! Anyway, he's the best teacher I've ever had and I want to be like him.]
Super-human Scholar Powers
On his blog, my friend talked about what superpower he would pick of he had a choice for one. He went through the various arguments for and against the different possibilities (like how flying would be cool, but he might get sucked in by the intake valve of a low flying jet-liner). He decided on teleportation because of its ease of connecting with faraway friends. Then he offered the challenge to his readers: “What would you pick? Telepathy? Telekinesis? Tele-evangelism (please, no)?” While I was tempted by that last one (I hear the money’s pretty good), I surprised myself with a new idea: Super Scholar. This was my thought:
As long as I had the option of turning it on and off, I think I would want to just know what is in a book and really understand its contents by laying my hand on it. I wouldn’t want to take away the pleasure of reading novels or magazines, but as a graduate student, it would be awesome to not have to read all the required books. Think of it: on top of all the necessary nonfiction works of my field (including commentaries), I could use it with dictionaries and encyclopedias, lexicons, language textbooks (!), sacred works from all the known religions. I wonder if it could expand to nontraditional book formats, like ancient papyri or clay tablets discovered in archeological digs or cavewall writings. Taken to the next level, maybe it could even handle electronic resources somehow, like whole websites, blogs, ebooks, etc. Dude, I could be, like, super scholar.Maybe it could even go the other way too…. It’d be great if I could have thoughts just appear in writing on my word processor program. All that time I spend trying to think of how to word thoughts… BAM, it’d be gone. Just transferred right there on the screen.Write a publishable article? Easy. Dissertation? No problem. Monumental scholarly book? Piece of cake. I tell you what, man, the more I think of the possibilities for Super Scholar, the more I can’t imagine wanting to trade it for any other power. Although, the whole teleportation thing would be right up there on the list.
What strikes me about this thought, after contemplating it, is just how self-serving it is. Where is my attention to Spiderman’s mantra that “with great power comes great responsibility”? No, this would just make my life easier. And maybe make me famous for my super scholarship. How could I serve the greater good of humankind with this vast knowledge and writing abilities? Well, there is the indirect benefit of income from book sales and speaking engagements. I could be like Rick Warren and do a “reverse tithe,” living on 10% of my income and giving away the rest. I figure if I could write enough books (a couple thousand, for instance), even if they weren’t bestsellers, I could bring in that kind of money.
Beyond that, I suppose I could try to use my intellect to try to foward the cause of Jesus discipleship with great new ways to conceptualize it. Maybe I could gain such a reputation for my scholarship that I could rub elbows with world leaders and show them where they are right and wrong. But these things are getting into apologetics and ethics. Remaining in biblical studies, maybe I would be able to figure out new ways of exposing how the Bible is misused by both conservatives and liberals alike. I would be able to do this in the classroom, in churches, public lectures, articles in popular media, appearing on talk shows, etc. I would have to work hard not to just use it for myself. With great power comes great responsibility. Maybe I should pray for this new superpower.
In over my head?
This fall, I’m stepping up the academic challenge. Marianne Meye Thompson has allowed me into her doctoral level course, New Testament Research Methods. Typically, doctoral courses have a small opening for the few, the chosen, the blessed… the lowly master’s-level students. The doctoral students usually have at least twice as much work to do and they have an extra quarter to finish it after the class is over. Though the master’s students have a lighter load than the doctoral students, it is enough to break the back of the one who carries the weight (if that one is not careful). I will be taking two other courses (Pentateuch with Jim Butler and Women, the Bible, and the Church with David Scholer) and will be a pastoral intern at Pasadena Mennonite Church. I’m also hoping to keep up my studying for another shot at both the GRE and the Greek waiver exam. And, oh yeah, I’m married. These are the kinds of things that could distract me from conquering (in good Anabaptist fashion) a more difficult course this fall. Nevertheless, I will give it my all. I will stand up to adversity and sing at top diaphragm capacity with Pat Benetar, “Hit me with your best shot… Fire away!” Maybe I’ll do a little dance too.
There was some confusion as to whether I would be able to crack my way into the course. Dr. Thompson gave me the go ahead to sign up for the class, but then it turned out that there wasn’t a master’s level segment of the course for me to register for this doctoral class. A master’s student can’t register for a doctoral level course. How about a directed study that would consist of me going to the seminar? A student can’t do a directed study for something that is already a course. And we find ourselves at square one. Dr. Thompson was ready to make some different name for the directed study just to bypass the system. Alas, it turned out that they were able to create a master’s level segment. Hurrah! So I am officially taking the course. It was one of those moments when I was thinking that educational institutional bureaucracy was hindering actual education, but some people made a significant effort to get things set up and for that I am grateful.
The course is described in matter-of-fact fashion: “This seminar introduces the various tools, including primary and secondary sources, available and necessary for advanced research in the New Testament.” To give an idea of the kinds of tools to which we are being introduced, we are using Danker’s Multipurpose Tools for Bible Study, Evans’ Ancient Texts for New Testament Studies, Scholer’s Basic Bibliographic Guide for New Testament Exegesis, and The SBL Handbook of Style. We are evaluated based on attendance and participation, regular research exercises, and a sample prospectus for a dissertation. Those last two may be adapted for master’s students, but I think I’d like to give that dissertation prospectus a shot. It may be difficult, but it would be good preparation for the future chaos of doctoral work. We shall see. Classes begin on September 25th.
Update (9/24/06): Walking through the Fuller Bookstore the other day, I discovered that Dr. Thompson had added a required book to the list that hadn’t been previously present: Markus Bockmuehl’s Seeing the Word: Refocusing New Testament Studies. I was happy to see the addition as I’ve been hoping to read Bockmuehl’s work sometime soon, but never have. Also, it is the only book of the class that is not a “reference” kind of work. The other books are not exactly the kind that you’d curl up on the sofa reading with a hot cup of tea. Perhaps others might say the same about a nonfiction work that assesses the state of New Testament studies, but it is actually quite a pleasant read. Bockmuehl is a fantastic writer and has a welcome wit. It is the first time that I’ve seen a New Testament scholar use the words “dog doo” in their work:
In spite of this historical rootlessness and fragmentation [in New Testament studies], or perhaps because of it, contemporary New Testament scholarship is at the same time peculiarly beholden to intellectual juggernauts unmoved by reason or evidence (a point well made by Goulder 1996 in relation to the Synoptic Problem). Too often such aging monster theories imperiously require the homage of countless young scholars until after a generation or three they may finally topple and wither away by themselves. Among this brood of dragons have been self-assured assumptions about authorship, hypothetical fragments and hymns, the so-called gospels of Thomas and Q; wandering charismatics and invisible “communities” playing hide-and-seek behind the text; grand power struggles between irreconcilably divided, “suppressing” and “suppressed” versions of faith; all manner of quasi-Darwinist speculations about ever-ascending christologies and descending eschatologies, early egalitarian radicalism giving way to late bourgeois patriarchalism; and so forth. The list goes on and on. Even unbelievers in these figments of intellectual fashion find that the attempt to ignore them is like trying to escape after stepping into bubblegum or dog doo: they are virtually impossible to dispel, and the aroma lingers wherever one turns. (37-8)
Bockmuehl decries the assumptions made in the field, the fragmentation of vast subfields, the endless libraries of a “publish or perish” mentality, the superficiality of undereducated doctoral students, the neglect of scholarship in languages other than one’s own even as hermeneutics embraces a global perspective. He paints a picture of New Testament studies that is an awful, incomprehensible mess. Those involved don’t even agree about what constitutes the field of New Testament research anymore. He goes further to suggest possible solutions, but I haven’t gotten far enough to see what he thinks is the best way forward. I am enchanted, however, by his eloquent statement of the problems.
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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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