Opus Imperfectum

BiblIndex: Biblia Patristica Online

2009-07-07T09:07:00.000-07:00

If you aren't using BiblIndex -- a remarkably helpful site that allows users to search for biblical citations in the works of a number of Patristic authors and thus the online version of Biblia Patristica -- you really ought to.

The site is in the process of some exciting changes. The newsletter below -- e-mailed to roughly a thousand registered users -- goes some way towards explaining.
--------------------

Dear
Friends and Users of
Biblindex,

This is the first collective mailing we send you, to keep you informed of the latest developments of the project or new features on the site. By the way, we’ll also check the registered email addresses and remove wrong accounts.
Today you’re 1,404, from 58 different countries, who have already registered on Biblindex; every day, the site receives about 80 visits. We also received a lot of supporting messages, expressing high expectations about the site growth. These figures and reactions mean our project met worldwide a significant echo, and we are obviously delighted about this. Biblindex's
vocation is to become a participating site, where each user can become a contributor by correcting data or sharing the biblical quotations or allusions he found: the larger the user community is, the better the available tool will be.

However, we now face a major difficulty. Indeed, when we opened the site in December 2008, we hoped to obtain financial support from the French National Research Agency (ANR) in 2009. Unfortunately, we learnt in June that the submitted project was rejected, but we do
not have yet any clue, nor report explaining the failure.

We will try again to obtain public funding, particularly from the Rhône-Alpes Regional Council, without whom the site would never have come into being; but we must add any private funds to these potential resources: So if you have any ideas of foundations or sponsors to whom we could address, please let us know! Of course each of you can also make a donation, on a regular or occasional basis, a Paypal button has been placed on all pages of the site: the funds are paid to the Association of “Sources Chrétiennes”’s Friends (AASC on the receipt), and will be used specifically for Biblindex development. We absolutely need your help to go onwards: without IT development, we won’t be able to create the virtual community of scholars and researchers we need to collect biblical quotations and expand the corpus. This is really the first step, thank you in advance for your help!

However, in order not to conclude on a negative note, let’s point out the very limited indeed, but positive prospects of this summer. The Rhône-Alpes Regional Council, which agreed to support the project in 2009 up to € 2,500 (inclusive of tax), will significantly help us to improve the search form. Besides, an IT developer works by us on placement since June 15^th until September 25^th, to provide the Sources Chrétiennes team a way to work on the database through the intranet. Newsletter No. 2 will focus on these advances.

This newsletter is sent to all registered users of Biblindex. If you do not wish to receive it, please send a mail to biblindex.sc@mom.fr. If you wish to have it sent to your colleagues, friends and associations, etc., give us their e-mail addresses. Moreover, if you are in charge of an institution working in the area of Christian Literature in Late Antiquity, you can link to our website on yours, by indicating the following address: http://www.biblindex.net/index.php?lang=en. Many registrations already came through links placed on blogs or institutional pages, this information diffusion is a great way to help us.

For the
Biblindex team, Laurence Mellerin

Write or Die

2009-06-08T16:57:00.001-07:00

If "Publish or Perish" is academia's motto, "Write or Die" is its logical predecessor -- only in (relatively) rare, usually unhappy cases can he who has not written become he who has published. (I am, however, aware of several cases where "he who has merely translated the works of Q. Esteemed Scholar from the latter's native language" became "he who has published" ... aforementioned works, thus falsely feathering his nest.)

Writing is hard work, and for the humanities-inclined academic there's truly no way around it. There are, however, an ever-increasing array of gadgets and programs, largely free or low-cost, that will make the writing experience more interactive, more motivating and overall less painful. I'm a geek at heart (... albeit sadly not the kind that writes useful programs and heads multi-billion-dollar software emporia, but merely the kind who will be first in line when cybernetic implants become popularly available.) The availability of a new gadget, program or "hack" makes me salivate -- even more when said hack offers to help me accomplish a highly desirable goal. Over the past few months, I've been playing around with three or four different programs designed to increase writing and research output. Happily, they are all multi-platform (... hear that, Google gods?! ...) and all quite promising.

The first, oldest and most basic is Zotero -- a program that folds directly into your Firefox browser and allows you to store notes, screenshots, and all manner of files. Library databases like ATLA and JSTOR download citations directly into Zotero -- not always a win if you're using Endnote, but a handy tool nonetheless. Best of all, after a recent upgrade, your computer's Zotero folder is now backed up online and accessible from all Zotero-able computers. In my own work, I use Zotero to store library references, screenshots of items I need/want, and as a way of keeping a folder with article/paper ideas on hand.

The second in line, one I've played with quite a bit recently is Scrivener. Unlike Zotero, Scrivener is a writing rather than a pre-writing/note-taking/research app. It allows for attractive and easy story-boarding -- love that cork-wall effect! -- and gives writers every option to arrange, rearrange, outline and draft to their hearts' content. This is probably the point where I shame-facedly admit to not being quite creative enough to get the full benefit of an app that is, apparently, heartily endorsed by novelists and playwrites everywhere. Accordingly, I didn't end up purchasing the program after its 30-day trial ran out. For my fellow mundane academic writers I am, however, happy to report that Scrivener performed just fine on a project on which I've been working ... despite the fact that a detailed analysis of Pauline exegesis in Carthage is unlikely to become a bestseller.

Third comes my current favorite: Evernote. For my money -- which, in the interest of full disclosure, totals exactly $0 since I downloaded it during a Lifehacker promotion -- this program combines the best of Zotero with a number of the good features of Scrivener. I've yet to plumb all it s features (handwriting recognition?!) and given that despite much geek-lust I'll never be able to justify purchasing an iPhone, I doubt I ever will. That being said, the combination of an online database to store my work that cross-references with my iPod touch -- while not a massive improvement over Google Docs -- is nevertheless quite sweet.

Finally, for those terminally writer's-blocked moments, there's always Write or Die ... I DARE you to work on that dissertation in Kamikaze mode ;)

Thing Theory in Action.

2009-06-05T08:17:00.001-07:00

Bill Brown, perhaps best known as the expositor of Thing Theory (... a term that at NAPS drew chuckles from even some of the more illustrious attendees ...) explains his development of Heidegger's Thing/Object distinction as follows: “We begin to confront the thingness of objects when they stop working for us: when the drill breaks, when the car stalls, when the windows get filthy, when their flow within the circuits of production and distribution, consumption and exhibition, has been arrested, however momentarily.”

Patricia Cox Miller who in her recent monograph The Corporeal Imagination makes use of Thing Theory elaborates: "In other words, an object becomes a 'thing' when it can no longer be taken for granted as part of the everyday world of the naturalized environment in which objects such as clean windows are so familiar as not to be noticed."

I've been thinking about these lofty concepts primarily because for me a number of "objects" took a turn towards "thing-ness" this week -- the natural function of, say, an indefinitely renewable lease or an unobstructed Eustachian tube in my right ear revealed themselves as anything but natural. Things broke, to a greater or lesser extent, and my efforts to return them to their previous happy state of objectness have consumed a lot more of my time than I had anticipated. With any luck, everything should be back on track however -- and thus concludes the business of things.

Language Acquisition for Demons and other Spiritual Entities

2009-05-31T09:56:00.001-07:00

(The layout-change and new picture of your, er, friendly blogger are due in part to comments addressed to "Opus" -- a name that, at the risk of dating me, is inextricably connected with Berke Breathed's wonderful Bloom County/Outland/Opus character -- and in part to my innate love of clean lines and quirky colors. Admit it: The muted brown tones were a little on the pretentious side. With any luck, no one will be able to take offense at the writings of a small penguin wearing a Carmen Miranda hat.)

Much of the Western Church celebrates Pentecost today -- the feast of the arrival of the Holy Spirit, as narrated in the second chapter of the Acts of the Apostles. A significant part of the story is, of course, the disciples' spirit-induced polyglot state:

"All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability. Now there were devout Jews from every nation under heaven living in Jerusalem. And at this sound the crowd gathered and was bewildered, because each one heard them speaking in the native language of each. Amazed and astonished, they asked, “Are not all these who are speaking Galileans? And how is it that we hear, each of us, in our own native language? Parthians, Medes, Elamites, and residents of Mesopotamia, Judea and Cappadocia, Pontus and Asia, Phrygia and Pamphylia, Egypt and the parts of Libya belonging to Cyrene, and visitors from Rome, both Jews and proselytes, Cretans and Arabs—in our own languages we hear them speaking about God’s deeds of power.”

This -- to Westerners -- familiar text put me in mind of another, far less recognizable one, from the fourth-century Life of Hilarion by Jerome. This vita -- one of three produced by Jerome and, like its companion pieces, on occasion unintentionally hilarious by virtue of its author's determination to out-do all competitors in the antiquity and impressiveness of his stories. Part of the story involves Hilarion casting out a demon from a certain Roman military official from Constantius' court "whose golden hair and personal beauty revealed his country (it lay between the Saxons and the Alemanni, was of no great extent but powerful, and is known to historians as Germany, but is now called France)." Pursued by a demon, the man seeks out Hilarion, who proceeds to interrogate him:

Immediately on being questioned by the servant of God the man sprang up on tiptoe, so as scarcely to touch the ground with his feet, and with a wild roar replied in Syriac in which language he had been interrogated. Pure Syriac was heard flowing from the lips of a barbarian who knew only French and Latin, and that without the absence of a sibilant, or an aspirate, or an idiom of the speech of Palestine. The demon then confessed by what means he had entered into him. Further, that his interpreters who knew only Greek and Latin might understand, Hilarion questioned him also in Greek, and when he gave the same answer in the same words and alleged in excuse many occasions on which spells had been laid upon him, and how he was bound to yield to magic arts, “I care not,” said the saint, “how you came to enter, but I command you in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ to come out.” The man, as soon as he was healed, with a rough simplicity offered him ten pounds of gold. But the saint took from him only bread, and told him that they who were nourished on such food regarded gold as mire.

Demons, apparently, are multi-lingual as well, albeit with a preference for Syriac -- and, really, which amongst us would not consent to a little demonic possession if as a result "pure Syriac" could be heard flowing from our lips?! ;)

P.S.: As part of my non-EC extracurricular activities, I enjoy reading Japanese and Japanese-American fiction. Accordingly the recent release date of 1Q84 by Murakami has been a red-letter date in my calendar for a while. No English release date is set yet, but How To Japanese has life-blogged his reading experience! Wow!

Unwarranted Cynicism.

2009-05-28T18:48:00.001-07:00

Sometimes an idea is so compelling, a parallel so enticing, that it sweeps several fields of scholarship like the proverbial wildfire ... leaving a slightly crispy bit of undergrowth and a number of befuddled scholars in its path. It seems to me that the "Cynic hypothesis" (in its various forms) is an example of such a phenomenon.

I'm not a NT scholar, and as such the "Cynic Jesus" (as endorsed by Burton Mack, J.D. Crossan, and most notably F. Gerald Downing) is largely safe from my critique. [It nevertheless strikes me that Downing's criteria for spotting a Cynic Christian raises a number of concerns -- as when he argues that Cynics might include “other individuals who espouse a Cynic life-style, if some in the ancient world see them as such, even if others find more significant different facets of their views and allegiance” (Cynics and Christian Origins, p. 55). This definition rather suggests that anyone whose views bear a “family resemblance” with Cynicism “can be used to illustrate and document what seemed Cynic to near contemporaries in the ancient world” (Ibid.). For my money, Downing here comes very close to identifying Cynics the way a certain former U.S. Supreme Court Justice defined pornography – he knows one when he sees one. The usefulness of this criterion for judicial or academic purposes appears dubious. But I disgress.]

The field of Early Christian studies has, however, has not remained entirely free from brushes with Cynic-ism either. This realization struck me recently when spending a bit of quality time with Augustine's De Opere Monachorum. The putative recipients of this treatise are a group of Carthaginian monks who distinguish themselves, first by their avoidance of manual labor in favor of a "lilies of the field" lifestyle of begging and otherwise living off the community's good graces and, on the other hand, by their long hair. (Hair, apparently, is a consistently pressing issue in Carthage, ranging from the un-veiled flowing locks of third-century virgins to the -- still unveiled, still flowing -- locks of fifth century monks. That's a topic for another entry, however.)

De Opere Monachorum has received attention primarily from two camps of scholars -- those interested in tracing late antique attitudes towards work in general and manual labor in particular, and those preoccupied by the question of the monks' identity and origin. The latter question is nearer and dearer to my own heart (... and while I'm not in full agreement with him either, thus far Daniel Caner has proposed the most satisfying solution.) Another recent contribution by a serious and highly respectable (... not to mention: far more brilliant than yours truly ...) scholar, Kenneth Steinhauser, however, involves the identification of these monks with -- Christian Cynics.

Prof. Steinhauser begins his brief contribution with a thoughtful exposition of prior work on the De Opere Monachorum, including a review of previously raised hypotheses of the monks' identity. He furthermore identifies six key characteristics that emerge from Augustine's description. While not all of these characteristics fit the picture (... the in my view essential exegetical preference for gospel-sayings over Pauline dicta, for example, falls by the wayside ...), Steinhauser nevertheless asserts that "[t]he beatnik monks of Carthage are remarkably similar to the ancient Cynic philosophers." Steinhauser's argument here comes close to Downing's in his reliance upon phenotypical resemblances: "Cynics did not work. They wore long hair and a distinctive garb. They acquired their livelihood begging. They engaged in various self-debasing practices. They wandered about the countryside. They propagated their views in public. They were social critics. They formed a clique." etc.

While some of these points require a bit of qualification -- long hair was not, as Steinhauser later concedes, a universal feature of Cynic habitus, and the mention of "self-debasing practices" raises uncomfortable issues in light of the monks' emphasis on humiliation as quasi-penitential ... a distinctly non-Cynic take. The more serious problem, however, is Steinhauser's subsequent development of his argument by way of three "illustrations from antiquity." Steinhauser here draws upon Diogenes' "self-sufficiency and independence" -- arguably a parallel with Augustine's monks; Gregory Nazianzen's encomium (an later bitter chastising) of Maximus as a Cynic; and the emperor Julian's (rather unflattering) analogy between monks and Cynics.

On the whole, these similarities fall rather short of being "sufficient ot demonstrate similarities between the Cynic philosophers and the dissident Carthaginian monks" -- and to his credit, Steinhauser notes that a "historical connection between [the two groups] cannot be proved." By the same token, however, I wonder whether a similar piece (... or, in the case of Downing, similar pieceS ...) would have made their way into the pool of scholarly publication if the referent involved were not such an intriguing, entertaining bunch as the Cynics. Caught up in the eccentricities of Cynic accounts and anecdotes, it seems that even the most able of scholarly contributors at times set aside cautious discernment in favor of unbridled enthusiasm.

Such leaps do, of course, frequently move the field forward and as such should not be stifled -- nevertheless, it might be time to shelve Cynicism at least unless and until further evidence arises from the dungheap.

"In this paper, I'd like to ..."

2009-05-26T19:02:00.001-07:00

Conference season hasn't technically ground into high gear yet, but with bloggers making use of the lazy summer-months (ha!) to prepare their SBL/AAR papers, a few bloggers have been tackling the "to script or not to script" question. Coming off NAPS, this question is near and dear to my heart, and the diverse and well-formulated opinions of AKMA and Mark Goodacre are fine representative of different schools of paper-presenting.

My confession: I script. I know, I know ... the spontaneity, the audience connection, the ability to convey just how well one controls the material -- those are all real benefits, ones I value in others' presentations, and have been taught to value in my own work as well. Ultimately, however, the decision for me turns on a number of factors, including but not limited to the following:

How tight is my schedule? Speakers favored with the attentions of a captive audience -- say, at plenary addresses or church sermons -- have a bit more leeway than contributions to "20-minutes, and once you pass the mark you'll be interrupted and thrown to the vicious glares of the poor sods scheduled to speak after you" panels. At the risk of sounding as disorganized as I truly am, my ability to extemporate never allows me to hit the mark with quite that precision -- and to impinge upon colleague's time and audiences' good graces seems ... unwise, not to mention in poor form. (Corollary: What is it people have come to hear -- and if it's not just "your research, you brilliant, sexy beast!," how can I best deliver on what I've implicitly promised my audience?)
How nervous am I likely to be? Giving a paper before the savage fiends of my local reading group is far less likely to send me grasping for the Beta-blockers than presenting the past year's research to the fifty or sixty leading experts in my field. (Shout-out to the savage fiends -- you rock, guys!) Even without fear of public speaking, the likelihood of seizing up, babbling incoherently and/or somehow leaving out a little thing like the paper's actual thesis is just too great for my tastes when the kinds of folks who may at some point be amenable to giving me a job.
How can I ameliorate the negative side-effects of reading from a script (or working extemporaneously)? When working from anything other than a 98%-full script, that means in my case -- tight outline and keeping a timer on hand. (The stopwatch feature of my iPod touch works nicely.) When reading my presentation, this means building in breaks at which to establish audience contact, usually when moving from one section to the next, as well as having done a sufficient number of read-throughs to a.) ensure that the text actually flows and b.) annotate the script for inflection, emphasis, breaks, etc. At a minimum, being prepared rules out the "surprise effect" Mark mentions -- giving the audience the distinct impression that the presenter has never before been confronted with his/her paper.

Of course, in the end, the best laid plans of mice and men (... or, as they say way back home: Man thinks and God objects! ...) My much-practiced, reasonably scripted, thoughtfully prepared presentation last weekend fell prey to a Freudian slip of generously sized proportions. After all those hopes to make myself memorable -- well, careful what you wish for ;)

P.S.: The "blogging for tenure" conversation continues. Jim West has weighed in with a somewhat baffling contribution; Goodacre responds here.

Publishing For Dummies: Blogging as Research/Teaching/Service?

2009-05-25T06:26:00.001-07:00

My friend Stephen over at Hypotyposeis has begun an interesting conversation around one of the points raised at NAPS -- come T-Day (... tenure-decision day, that is ...), how should one classify one's assiduous daily or monthly forays into the wonderful world of biblio- (or: patro-)blogging?* Moreover, how will one's tenure committee regard those efforts in the context of the three crucial rubriks of "research," "teaching," and "service"?

When pressed on this issue, David Brakke of Indiana University noted that, as a department head, he tended to view blogging as "service," alongside committee attendance and similarly stimulating opportunities. Brakke was quick to note the need for well-informed bloggers writing on the subject of Early Christianity, as well as the ever-changing world of academic publications and tenure decisions. Given that, at IU and similar institutions (... frequently categorized under the category of R-1 ...) a candidate for tenure needs to achieve an "outstanding" in research, but merely attain to "adequate" standing in teaching and service, the message is nevertheless clear -- keep on blogging, but be prepared for your committee to wonder whether all that time could not have been more productively spent hammering out a couple more articles.

As for the question of where blogging ought to fit into the three-fold scheme, I find myself hard pressed to come up with a blanket answer. After all, "blog" hardly equals "blog": While my disquisitions upon the artistic merits of the most recent Star Trek movie may delight all and sundry, I can hardly expect my tenure committee to assess my value to the university on the basis of what I thought of Chris Pine's ass. A number of long-standing and prolific bloggers keep thus personal and professional blogs alongside one another -- Mark Goodacre's NT Gateway blog and personal family blog being the prime examples thereof.

Even within the realm of purely academic blogs, moreover, different labels apply. A blog may thus reflect upon the nature of academic life (... Rate Your Students is just one instance of such a venture ...) without commenting upon a particular field. Such a blog could easily be qualified as "service," I think, as it provides commentary helpful to the academic community without necessarily advancing the status of scholarship. Most Biblioblogs, on the other hand, provide a trickeir scenario, and one that benefits from contextualization: After all, "service" encompasses not only the weighty task of serving as pizza-bringing-chair for the departmental liaisons' support group, but also tasks like writing dictionary entries, authoring longer, commissioned encyclopedia pieces, etc. While these may qualify as "publications" in the more traditional sense, they nevertheless do not constitute research, in large part because they, by their very nature, are synthetic and regurgitative.

A number of blogs I read fit this description as well: They bring together in helpful ways a number of scholarly opinions on a particular subject without inserting too much of the author's own views or original conclusions. Such blogs provide, I believe, an important service to the academic and lay scholarly community -- as such, categorizing them under "service" is, in my view, perfectly justified. Other blogs, like Stephen Carlson's, Ed Cook's and Mark Goodacre's offer at the very least a healthy dose of analysis and contribution to scholarship.

For many bloggers who also happen to be academics, their blogs provide opportunities to "test the waters" before unleashing an idea upon the scholarly community at large by way of a lecture, article or monograph. As such they foster scholarly dialogue that ultimately improve these bloggers' reasearch and enhance the quality of their publications -- but does that suggest that their efforts should be, effectively, counted twice: once for the initial floating of ideas/dissemination of data by blog, once for the finished product, the article or conference presentation, added to their CV? Moreover, why not consider at leats the possibility of categorizing one's blog under "teaching"? While recognizing that the NT Gateway is somewhat sui generis, its being featured on scores of NT syllabi across the country as an essential resource of students surely ought to give Goodacre credit under that rubric!

I suspect it's high time that blogs be considered in some form by tenure committees, assuming they meet a certain number of minimum characteristics: For a blog to blip on the academic radar, it ought to be topical, consistent (... knocking mine right off the list ...), public (... and thus engaging its readers in dialogue of some sort ...), and analytical. Different institutions will want to add or subtract criteria as they see fit -- a Divinity School or seminary might thus find a confessional blog more palatable than a university.

As for bloggers who also happen to be readers of Opus Imperfectum -- I'm curious: Where do you see your own work fitting into the mix? Research? Teaching? Service? Pleasure? Do tell.

Update: Mark Goodacre over at the NT Gateway blog weighs in on the matter as well: http://ntweblog.blogspot.com/2009/05/academic-blogging-publication-service.html

* With any luck, patro-blogging will soon take its rightful place in the bloggers' dictionary, right next to biblio-blogging.

And now for something completely different ...

2009-05-24T11:34:00.001-07:00

One of the projects I'm working on intermittently these days is the question of how to distinguish between two closely related concepts -- that of humility, and that of humiliation. The primary difference appears to be in their respective valuation: Humility is positively coded, at least within a Judaeo-Christian framework, whereas humiliation is quite negatively coded.

To complicate things, while humility seems to dwell largely within the sphere of "religious thought" -- so much so, that a query for the term in psychology databases brings up largely "pastoral counseling" responses -- whereas humiliation functions as a cross-over term between philosophy, psychology and assorted other disciplines. Each realm adds different definitional nuances; while it thus makes considerable sense for a philosopher to speak of humiliation as a violation of human dignity, a psychologist might well be leery of importing concepts like the latter into her work.

One -- quite serviceable -- definition of humiliation comes from a 2007 paper by Peter T. Coleman titled The Privilege of Humiliation:

Humiliation is an emotion, triggered by public events, which evokes a sense of inferiority resulting from the realization that one is being, or has been, treated in a way that departs from the normal expectations for fair and equal human treatment.

This is a very interiorized definition of humiliation -- indeed one that arguably blurs the definition of "shame" and "humiliation" (... a difference upon which entire dissertations have been composed.) A slight modification might capitalize on the "public events" qualifier of aforementioned definition: Humiliation is, after all, not only triggered by public events but by the public nature of the humiliating treatment. Mark A. Jackson in his dissertation thus defines humiliation as being constituted by:

(a) some other actively engaged in exposing some shortcoming or misdeed of the target of humiliation, (b) the target's belief that he or she does not deserve the treatment he or she is getting, and (c) the event occurs in a public situation.

Jackson's definition gets us closer to the public -- and thus by necessity socially constructed -- nature of humiliation; like Coleman's, however, its central hinge is the experiential character of humiliation. In other words, no humiliation exists for either Coleman or Jackson unless the humiliated individual is cognizant of and sensitive to the humiliation. Some attention has been paid -- and rightly so -- to a "humiliation disconnect" when one party without intent to humiliate nevertheless inflicts humiliation upon another. Given the outward-directed response to humiliation (pace Jackson), the unintentional humiliation of another across cultural or national boundaries is, of course, a particularly precarious potentiality.

An, I think, somewhat less explored -- because far less problematic -- phenomenon is a scenario where the humiliated party is either insensible to his humiliation or, even more transgressively, is choosing to appropriate his humiliation for a purpose the humiliator deems undesirable. In other words, while humiliation, like shame, is an effective tool to bring socially deviant behavior back in line, the exploitation of humiliation -- for spiritual, counter-social or even sexual gain -- effectively neutralizes the intended effects of humiliation.

Early Christian literature is, of course, chock-full with examples of the rejection, reinscription and appropriation of humiliation. The Martyrdom of Polycarp provides an early example. After Polycarp's betrayal and arrest, he is being transported from the house in which he has been found to the arena. On the way ...

the police captain Herod and his father Niketas met him and removed him into their carriage, and sat by his side trying to persuade him and saying: "But what harm is it to say, `Lord Caesar,' and to offer sacrifice, and so forth, and to be saved?" But he at first did not answer them, but when they continued he said: "I am not going to do what you counsel me." And they gave up the attempt to persuade him, and began to speak fiercely to him, and turned him out in such a hurry that in getting down from the carriage he scraped his shin; and without turning round, as though he had suffered nothing, he walked on promptly and quickly, and was taken to the arena, while the uproar in the arena was so great that no one could even be heard.

It strikes me that the narrative here recounts a failed attempt at humiliation: After persuasion has failed, Herod and Niketas begin to "speak fiercely" to the aged and publicly respected Polycarp and cast him from the carriage -- behaviors that anticipate the later arena's dynamic of cajoling and public shaming. Both approaches are designed to elicit socially conformist behavior, namely Polycarp's public assent to the imperial cult. Polycarp's refusal, however, does not merely indicate his resistance to the desired effects of humiliation, but suggests the narrator's intent to convey that Polycarp is uniquely impervious to humiliation itself: He answers to a higher judge; endeavors to "expose some shortcoming or misdeed" (per Jackson's definition) are singularly ineffective because Polycarp's assessment of what constitutes "shortcoming" is conditioned by a different "social group" altogether.

Later martyr accounts narrate in even more explicit detail Christians' appropriation of public spectacles' intended humiliation for publicity ("the blood of martyrs is seed"), spiritual gain, and even an opportunity to counter-humiliate their audiences: Paradoxically, humility humiliates. Much has been written about this phenomenon -- Boyarin's Dying for God and Castelli's Martyrdom and Memory are merely two prominent and incisive examples. '

What intrests me, however, concerns a somewhat later area of Christianity's development, as well as the question of what happens when humility and humiliation are, at least in theory, no longer performed under two divergent scripts (Christian/Pagan, Christian/Jewish, etc.), but when the very same social script (e.g. the canon of the New Testament) is being read by different groups or individuals to encode a particular action in divergent ways. Who, in short, arbitrates whether an act is humble -- and thus pleasing to God -- or humiliating -- and thus displeasing? Moreover, what happens in instances when these groups agree upon the humiliating nature of an act, but one endeavors to subvert and appropriate the act's humiliation for their own spiritual or social ends? And, not least of all, what happens when other social variables, particularly gender, race, status, are being introduced into the equation?

Inquiring minds would like to know.

The Two NAPS

2009-05-24T03:14:00.000-07:00

Saturday, May 23, marked the end of the 2009 meeting of the North American Patristics Society -- the field's most acronym-challenged organization: While I'm sure we could all use more NAPS in our lives, perhaps a young scholar ought to be leery of publishing her work in the Patristic Monograph Series.

Bad jokes aside, however, the conference is a consistent highlight for scholars of Patristics or Early Christianity: WIth roughly 250-odd attendees, it's not quite the Cheers of the scholarly world ('where everybody knows your name'), but it's close enough: NAPS is much smaller than either AAR or SBL (... nevermind the combination of the two ...) and grad students (or those still aspiring to becoming grad students) can expect to rub elbows with the likes of Dame Avril Cameron, Daniel Boyarin, and Brian Daley. (In at least one respect, NAPS is nevertheless more hierarchal than those larger gatherings -- nametags identify participants as either "DR. John Doe" or, for the un-titled or at least insufficiently titled, merely "John Doe.") With three "plenary addresses" in the course of three days, the conference further capitalizes on a show of unity even as its impressive number of break-out sesion -- 7 and 8 deep for any given time-slot -- attest to the bredth of members' interest.

During one of those break-out sessions -- a fine panel discussion of Patricia Cox Miller's equally fine recent monograph -- one of the audience members nevertheless pointed out that the unity is perhaps a smidgen more precarious than the group's size and collegial spirit might suggest. In short, she -- and for purposes of her point her she-ness is indeed relevant -- noted that there appeared to be "two NAPS" running parallel to one another, remaining largely distinct. Of these, one was colorfully attired, the other primarily tastefully gray, one focused on materiality and sensuality, the other on ontology, one composed of earnest Christian men, the other of a mix of men and women, agnostics and atheists, Christians and Jews, monastics and muslims. In short -- one "patristic" NAPS and one "socio-historical, theoretical" NAPS. And never the twain shall meet.

The latter is, of course, rank exaggeration: The scholar in question would not have been able to point to the disparity between the groups, had she not partaken of one of the "other camp's" sessions herself. On the whole, though, I suspect the comment directed itself at the elephant in the room -- the tensions between those who "do theology." and those who may be grateful that there are others who "do theology," if only because they wouldn't care to touch the topic with a ten-foot diptych.

That NAPS-ers have been reluctant to name the elephant has, I suspect, a lot to do with the recent and infelicitous split between those larger umbrella organizations -- AAR and SBL -- for reasons supposedly similar to those creating divergent entities within NAPS. While, I think, the split has been roundly recognized as unhelpful (not to mention, or so my SBL colleagues tell me, perceived as a kind of coup) and a reunion is on the horizon, the step from recognizing that two kinds of minds dwell in the same body to the initiative to surgically separate the two is a small one indeed.

Intriguingly, the session immediately following the one yielding the insightful comment was a plenary gathering to hear Dame Cameron address the conventioneers. Somewhere towards the very end of her talk, Cameron noted the necessity of theologians remaining in dialogue with historians, historians with textualists, Patristics scholars with medievalists, etc. (... unmentioned, but vital in my view is the addition of -- the whole sorry lot of scholars of late antiquity with Islamicists.)

Cameron's exhortation is, of course, as obviously correct as it is necessary: The field of Early Christian studies has now officially passed out of adolescence in the U.S. (... while still remaining in frustrating infancy in Germany and other parts of Europe ...); accordingly, its necessary period of individuation from all manner Patristic is, perhaps, drawing to an end. I thus find that the best, most incisive young scholars (... Catherine Chin comes to mind ...) are those who navigate as readily within a theological framework as they do within a theoretical one and are as adept at handling liturgical sources as they are with "pagan" philosophical materials.

The generation of scholars immediately below these, the current grad-students and just-barely-out-of-grad-schoolers are coming of age in an academic climate largely devoid of the binaries and syzygies that dominated scholarship as recently as 10-15 years ago -- body/spirit, individual/society, theology/theory are becoming perhaps less obsolete as they are coming to appear interpenetrative, yin-yangs rather than polar opposites. I suspect, then, that this generation can and will substantially revise the currently so obvious (if only haltingly named) elephant in the cozy quarters of NAPS, or even the holy halls of AAR/SBL.

The imperative to do good scholarship does not, of course, go away -- but what it means to do good scholarship and how such a task might be accomplished is changing ... for the betterment of the field, I surmise.

Well, phooey.

2009-02-15T06:50:00.000-08:00

(The Chronicler notes with interest the discussion surrounding N.T. Wrong and the ethics of anonymous blogging that's been preoccupying the biblio-blogosphere. The Chronicler sees nothing wrong with sharing reflections, bits of research, etc. with the great wide open that is the internet without being forced to disclose that one is, say, a gay Asian-American middle-aged vegetarian male with a Ph.D. in New Testament from a mid-range conservative U.S. institution. As the thoughtful posts keep rolling in, though, the Chronicler may feel compelled to weigh in at greater length at some point regardless.)

Here's what I've been doing while I've been avoiding le blog:

I'm happy to say that while I've been spending comparatively little time with Ambrose and "his" Jews, the encounters we've had have been most rewarding. It looks like this year's NAPS conference will feature a paper on the topic by yours truly, in the hopes of getting a fuller draft into publication one of these years ... once I've rid the accursed thing of split infinitives, and an overabundance of "by the same token"s. Thanks to Stephen for alerting me to the latter problem -- if only he knew that the version he read had already had a good number of them excised from its pages ;)
On the languages front, I'm gaining ground on the twin evils otherwise known as Coptic and Syriac. The former in particular is a source of both joyful discovery and rampant cursing -- the one when a read through the Gospels of Mark and John reveals idiosyncratic Christological variants ("in you my will dwells") or simply insights into the language's features (e.g., the predilection for making use of the little one-letter verb translated as both "do" and "make" -- rather than "shining," the Coptic scribe thus uses "making light," etc.) The cursing, on the other hand, comes into play when attempting to speed-read pages upon pages of Quecke only to be, once again, stumped by the difference between sigma-omega-tau-mu and sigma-omega-tau-pi. Vocabulary, my old enemy, we meet again!
Paper and project-wise, I'm currently working a bit out side of my comfort zone -- both earlier and later, really. One project about which I'll have more to say as I've got a lot more to think on it concerns one or two minor treatise(s) by Tertullian. The other deals with Severus of Antioch, Syriac Christian liturgy and, well, death. I'm a fourth-century kinda kid, so the second century is unsettling me a touch, while the sixth is leaving me really out of my depth. For both projects, however, the online resources over at the Tertullian project have been quite helpful -- did you realize that the ToC for the Patrologia Orientalis can be found online there? No? Go see for yourself!

Not much of this is inherently interesting, but a few of these items have the potential to become interesting in their own right at some point. For now, putting them out there is a bit of a path back into blogging, as well as a set-up for the obligatory plug for the new, improved N.T. Gateway. :D

On Academic Writing.

2009-01-10T17:43:00.000-08:00

"Of those who write scholarly articles, since this is what you ask, some write at too great a length, and others err on the side of deficiency; and both miss the mean, like archers shooting at a mark and sending some shafts short of it and others beyond it; for the missing is the same though on opposite sides. Now the measure of academic papers is their usefulness: and we must neither write at very great length when there is little to say, nor very briefly when there is a great deal. What? Are we to measure our wisdom by the Persian Schœne, or by the cubits of a child, and to write so imperfectly as not to write at all but to copy the midday shadows, or lines which meet right in front of you, whose lengths are foreshortened and which show themselves in glimpses rather than plainly, being recognized only by certain of their extremities? We must in both respects avoid the want of moderation and hit off the moderate.

This is my opinion as to brevity; as to perspicuity it is clear that one should avoid the oratorical form as much as possible and lean rather to the chatty: and, to speak concisely, that is the best and most beautiful academic paper which can convince either an unlearned or an educated reader; the one, as being within the reach of the many; the other, as above the many; and it should be intelligible in itself. It is equally disagreeable to think out a riddle and to have to interpret an article.

The third point about a scholarly paper is grace: and this we shall safeguard if we do not write in any way that is dry and unpleasing or unadorned and badly arranged and untrimmed, as they call it; as for instance a style destitute of maxims and proverbs and pithy sayings, or even jokes and enigmas, by which language is sweetened. Yet we must not seem to abuse these things by an excessive employment of them. Their entire omission shews rusticity, but the abuse of them shews insatiability. We may use them about as much as purple is used in woven stuffs. Figures of speech we shall admit, but few and modest. Antitheses and balanced clauses and nicely divided sentences, we shall leave to the sophists, or if we do sometimes admit them, we shall do so rather in play than in earnest.

My final remark shall be one which I heard a clever man make about the eagle, that when the birds were electing a king, and came with various adornment, the most beautiful point about him was that he did not think himself beautiful. This point is to be especially attended to in academic writing, to be without adventitious ornament and as natural as possible. So much about academic writing I send you by a letter; but perhaps you had better not apply it to myself, who am busied about more important matters. The rest you will work out for yourself, as you are quick at learning, and those who are clever in these matters will teach you."

(... hardly at all adapted -- with the exception of replacing "letter(s)" with the the bold-fonted terms above -- from Gregory of Nazianzus' Epistle LI ... but nevertheless so terribly appropriate 1600 years later ;)

Resolved Academics.

2009-01-06T12:08:00.001-08:00

Prof. Mark Goodacre, over at the NT Gateway, recently posted his academic New Year's Resolutions. I'm a big fan of resolutions in general -- something about starting the new year around the same time as a new year-of-life -- and Prof. Goodacre's in particular. They are all sound and challenging, and it is, I believe, to his credit that he projects that #4 -- "be less nice!" -- will be the most difficult for him to implement.

With the exception of #3 -- "book?! What book?" -- and likely #4 (... if the Jerome icon wasn't a tip-off ...), all of Prof. Goodacre's resolutions could easily carry over to my list as well. The lists that are popping up on numerous blogs also reminded me of a document I came across last year. Prof. Kathryn Lofton, presently of Princeton, soon to be of Yale has put together a helpful list of 17 items, give or take, that answer the question: "How can I be a good grad student?"* (Several of Prof. Lofton's former colleagues attest that she indeed distinguished herself in this capacity.)

I don't mean to infringe upon Prof. Lofton's copyright, so I'll limit myself to a mere smattering of the suggestions she makes:

Attend everything.
This includes reading groups, talks, and parties. And every conference you can afford to attend.
Say yes. Think three times before saying no.
If you’re not taking classes in other departments, you’re provincial. If you’re not reading books unrelated to your field, you’re not an intellectual. Do both. Often.

Let me begin by pointing out that the list Prof. Lofton has composed is clearly only one of several paths towards being a "successful graduate student". If one is, for example, raising a family while in graduate school or merely trying to maintain a marriage (dating relationship, rapport with one's pet, etc.), attending everything and/or saying yes to everything a large research university has to offer might be a more direct path to dissipation and burn-out than to completing one's dissertation and thriving. Amongst my acquaintances, "the list" has therefore generated reactions from snorts to outrage primarily amongst those who attempted the Ph.D. at later stages in life. By the same token, these tend to be amongst the most successful students -- more driven, less neurotic (one hopes), acutely aware of the need to earn a living and support one's family, etc.

On the whole, though, and with the appropriate caveats for preservation of mental health and sanity, Prof. Lofton's list, much like Prof. Goodacre's resolutions, has much to commend itself. In a profession where I see a bit too much self-handicapping -- not least of all in my own life -- the encouragement to go for it, give 100%, etc., is surely not misplaced.

* A very similar set of advice might be offered to newly minted assistant or associate faculty.

Sundays withe the Fathers -- January 4, Second Sunday after Christmas

2009-01-04T15:40:00.000-08:00

Text: Psalm 84*

The Father: Saint Augustine of Hippo

The Issue: A meditation on virtue as the fruit of grace. (Hey, it's the beginning of a new calendar year!)

The Text: “He shall give blessing,” saith he, “who gave the law.”… Grace shall come after the law, grace itself is the blessing. And what has that grace and blessing given unto us? “They shall go from virtue to virtue.” For here by grace many virtues are given. “For to one is given by the Spirit the word of wisdom, to another the word of knowledge according to the same Spirit, to another faith, to another the gift of healing, to another different kinds of tongues, to another the interpretation of tongues, to another prophecy.” Many virtues, but necessary for this life; and from these virtues we go on to “a virtue.” To what “virtue”? To “Christ the Virtue of God and the Wisdom of God.” He giveth different virtues in this place, who for all the virtues which are necessary and useful in this valley of weeping shall give one virtue, Himself. For in Scripture and in many writers four virtues are described useful for life: prudence, by which we discern between good and evil; justice, by which we give each person his due, “owing no man anything,” but loving all men: temperance, by which we restrain lusts; fortitude, by which we bear all troubles. These virtues are now by the grace of God given unto us in the valley of weeping: from these virtues we mount unto that other virtue. And what will that be, but the virtue of the contemplation of God alone?… It follows in that place: “They shall go from virtue to virtue.” What virtue? That of contemplation. What is contemplation? “The God of Gods shall appear in Sion.” The God of Gods, Christ of the Christians.…When all is finished, that mortality makes necessary, He shall appear to the pure in heart, as He is, “God with God,” The Word with the Father, “by which all things were made.”
- Commentary on Psalms, 84.11

An additional treat, simply because I couldn't resist including it: Ambrose in his Exposition of the Holy Gospel according to Saint Luke in the context of today's gospel reading elaborates on the two generations in Christ: "There are two Generations in Christ; one is Paternal, the other Maternal: The Paternal, the Divine; the Maternal, which descends to our labour and usage." Ambrose then goes on to explain what children owe to their parents:

"Learn what ye owe to your parents when ye read that the Son does not differ from the Father by will, by work, or by time. Although in two Persons, They are One in power , and surely the Heavenly Father experienced no labour of Generation; but ye are in debt to your mother for violation of her chastity, long-lasting nausea, long-lasting dangers, she for whom in her misery, there was a greater peril in the very fruits of her prayers; and when she was brought forth what she desired, she is delivered of her offspring, not of her fear. . . . Surely, it is needful that obedience at least be recompensed for these?"
- Expositio in Lucam, II.66

Ambrose, a feminist?! ;)

Check back for a bit more on the Trinity at Mamre, a subject that's preoccupied me quite a bit in non-bloggish ways over the past week, tomorrow.

* I'm very fond of Jeremiah and made a spirited effort to find a commentary on the Jeremiah readings for the day, but a.) not a whole lot of Fathers commented on the book in any systematic fashion -- Theodoret being one notable exception -- and b.) the works of some who did are no longer extant (... cf., for example, the largely un-preserved state of Jerome's commentary on Jeremiah).

Sundays with the Fathers -- December 28 (First after Christmas)

2008-12-28T14:13:00.000-08:00

The Passage: John 1:1-18*

The Father: Origen

The Issue: How can Christians claim to know God and in what way do they expect to be saved by God?

The Text: "Accordingly, if Celsus were to ask us how we think we know God, and how we shall be saved by Him, we would answer that the WORD of God, which entered into those who seek Him, or who accept Him when He appears, is able to make known and to reveal the Father, who was not seen (by any one) before the appearance of the WORD. And who else is able to save and conduct the soul of man to the God of all things, save God the WORD, who, “being in the beginning with God,” became flesh for the sake of those who had cleaved to the flesh, and had become as flesh, that He might be received by those who could not behold Him, inasmuch as He was the Word, and was with God, and was God?

This WORD, speaking in human form and described as "flesh," calls to himself all those who are flesh that he might first cause them to be transformed according to the WORD made flesh and after that lead them up to see him as he was before he became "flesh." so that they, profiting therefrom and making progress beyond their initiation, would say: "Even though we once regarded Christ from a human point of view, we regard him thus no longer." He has therefore "become flesh," and having become "flesh," "he pitched his tent among us" and is not outside of us. And after tabernacling and dwelling in us, he did not remain in his first form, but bringing us up to the "high mountain", showed us his glorified form and the brilliance of his garments.

And not His own form alone, but that also of the spiritual law, which is Moses, seen in glory along with Jesus. He showed to us, moreover, all prophecy, which did not perish even after His incarnation, but was received up into heaven, and whose symbol was Elijah. And he who beheld these things could say, “We beheld His glory, the glory as of the only-begotten of the Father, full of grace and truth." Celsus, then, has exhibited considerable ignorance in the imaginary answer to his question which he puts into our mouth, “How we think we can know God? and how we know we shall be saved by Him?” for our answer is what we have just stated."

- Contra Celsum 6.68

* So I'm chickening out by going for a gospel passage two weeks in a row -- but seriously, who can pass up the chance to use John 1?!

LinkBlog: Holiday Edition

2008-12-28T13:26:00.001-08:00

A blog is not, generally speaking, the ideal means for pleasuring its author -- at least not unless you're writing second-rate furry porn ... and into that kind of thing. One of the things I've discovered in prior ventures into the blogosphere is the embarrassing enjoyment of speaking of myself in the third person. (A note to friends and colleagues who have pointed out that I am, in fact, a pretentious tosser: You may be right.)

I have been, however, rather stumped for a moniker; I'm fond of Jerome (... yet another pretentious tosser ...), not least of all because of his thoroughgoing crankiness -- quiet in the peanut gallery! If ever there was a man who wore his faults on his epistolary sleeve, it was surely (... and unconsciously ...) Blessed Jerome.

But where does that leave me, nomenclature-ly speaking? Jerry, Jr.? The Git? The Old Koot? Hieronyanium? (My grasp of the classics is lamentably such that no one would label me "Ciceronis es!" at this point in my life.) The Chronicler? That one may have potential. With the undue delay of a few days' of celebration, debauchery, feasting, the consumption of spectacles, and other things of which the Fathers would thoroughly disapprove, I give a few worthwhile links:

I love little presses that put out affordable (and frequently long-overdue) translations -- the Center for Traditionalist Orthodox Studies is a fine example. Pick up some Ambrose, some Gregory the Great, or perhaps something more exotic.
Inclined towards Syriac studies? Wish you were here! Or pick up something from Gorgias Press (... although, really, what were they thinking with "Gorgiana"?!)
From the -- sort of -- New Testament corner: Readers of the most recent edition of the Journal of Early Christian Studies will likely have discovered an article by Scott G. Brown, dedicated to "The Letter to Theodore: Stephen Carlson's Case against Clement's Authorship". The article sets out to refute an argument from Mr. Carlson's book, The Gospel Hoax: Morton Smith's Invention of Secret Mark. (Given the contribution by Jeff Jay on "A New Look at the Epistolary Framework of the Secret Gospel of Mark," this JECS appears to be at least partly a theme-issue ... but I disgress.) Interestingly, this is a discussion that started right here on the internets ... and both Mr. Carlson and his dissertation adviser Dr. Goodacre can be found as prominent participants in the blogosphere. (Good on you, Stephen! We're all dreaming of having an article in JECS with our name in the title one of these years ;)
Finally, a treat for the recently birthday-ed blogger -- from "Ralph," esteemed blogger and even more esteemed associate professor in the Department of Semitics at Catholic U. Thanks, Ed!

... and that's it for now. More on yet another Sunday with the Fathers later on.

Entertaining the Trinity Unawares. (Part II)

2008-12-21T15:46:00.000-08:00

The image on the left is perhaps the most famous icon in existence: Andrei Rublev's 15th century "Angels at Mamre," frequently billed as "the Old Testament Trinity". There's much to be said for the icon's artistic arrangement -- the three figures inclining towards one another perichoretically, the openness of the image to include the viewer, etc. There's fine social trinitarian theory to be made or illustrated on the basis of Rublev's work.

As we've already seen, however, the idea that the angels at Mamre were in some way reflective of the Trinity is far less obvious to the passage's Patristic interpreters than to 15th century painters or 21st century theologians. Take, for example, Ephrem ("the Syrian") -- roughly a contemporary of Hilary of Poitiers, albeit rather farther East. In his commentary on Genesis, Ephrem claims that three strangers appeared to Abraham -- but that God appeared to Abraham in one of the three.

This provides a rather satisfying solution to the problem of the passage's three/one//plural/singular address: Abraham welcomes all three -- and indeed, the angels condescend to receiving human treatment as a blessing to Abraham's household -- but worships only one of them, or rather: worships the manifestation of God in one of the angels.

Afterwards, Ephrem intimates, two angels depart for Sodom while the one in whom God appeared to Abraham remains behind to negotiate the city's fate. (Ephrem rather charmingly notes that the angels were sensitive enough to not reveal Sodom's fate to Sarah, lest she be unduly distressed about it.) Ephrem knows nothing of the frequent Patristic theme, according to which the fact that Lot is visited by two rather than three angels is taken as a comment about Lot's moral inferiority to Abraham. Rather, Lot receives a theophany in the same way as his brother-in-law:

"Then two angels set out for Sodom and they went directly to the gate where Lot was sitting to receive stranges who came there. Lot rose to meet them as if to meet strangers, but when he drew near to them there appeared in the second angel the same vision that abraham had seen in the third, and Lot bowed his face to the ground." (XVI.2.1)

The same angel in which God appears to Lot is later also the angel who brings down fire and brimstone upon Sodom; in both cases, as in the instance of the angels' visit to Abraham, the theophany is conveyed by way of a vision that images God -- not the Trinity -- and, evidently, the Father rather than the Son. Interestingly, Ephrem -- as strong a defender of Nicea as Hilary -- does not struggle with the potential incarnational aspects of the appearance, nor does he use the opportunity for exploring the presence of Christ in the Hebrew Scriptures.

Interestingly, at least one pre-fourth century Father nevertheless offers intimations of Trinitarian readings of the text -- Origen of Alexandria*. His is, obviously, not the kind of explicit Trinitarian reading we'll come across in (some of) Augustine and that Caesarius will add -- rather incongruously -- to Origen's account, but Homily IV on Genesis worries the issue of three-foldness like the proverbial dog worrying a bone. Given Origen's commitment to making every word count and his textual perspicacity, this isn't really surprising. Origen thus notes the mystery inherent in the three men and the three measures of flour used to prepare the meal for them. The three men image God -- although the same might be said for the two men that come to Lot. In either case, the mode of arrival -- descent to the sinner, standing before the righteous -- rather than the means of the theophany is the focus of Origen's reading.

The most interesting part of the homily form a Trinitarian perspective is, however, its conclusion. Origen here argues that the inquiry God makes about Sodom has to do with the difference in divine knowledge -- God, Origen claims, only knows those who recognize him. Those who deny him, God chooses not to know. As a result:

"These things, indeed, have been said against those who "speak iniquity on high." But let us give attention to make our acts such, our manner of life such, that we may be held worthy of knowledge of God, that he may see fit to know us, that we may be held worthy of the knowledge of his son Jesus Christ nad knowledge of the Holy Spirit, that we, known by the Trinity, might also deserve to know the mystery of the Trinity fully, completely, and perfectly, the Lord Jesus Christ revealing it to us."

Interestingly, this is almost the first time in his homily that Origen mentions the Trinity, although he makes frequent reference to a mystery in three-ness. Whether the medium simply does not lend itself to theological speculation -- as, indeed, much of this and other homilies is focused on "ethical" readings -- or whether Origen is on some level drawn to Trinitarian readings but uncomfortable expounding on them is hard to say. The very fact that the Trinity appears in this early-third-century reading of the text is, nevertheless, remarkable. By the time Augustine and his De Trinitate appears on the scene nearly 200 years later, the Trinity is, however, set to take center-stage at Mamre.

* At the risk of sounding too much like the product of my academic parentage, I'm firmly convinced that if you scratch most any 4th-, 5th- or 6th century writer, you'll find Origen underneath ... pretty remarkable, considering the witchhunt otherwise known as the Origenist Controversy, and the relative paucity of extant (un-interpolated, un-adulterated) works.

Sundays with the Fathers -- December 21 (Fourth Advent)*

2008-12-21T13:14:00.000-08:00

(* I have been and remain somewhat ambivalent about this feature. As should be apparent, this blog is primarily a professional one, focused on topics related to my research and academic interests. This is so not because I'm such a self-important tosser, but simply because in the midst of my busy schedule any "distraction" -- such as, say, a blog -- needs to keep me focused on the things that sit towards the top of my list of priorities. I should further note that I'm simply no good at writing on "devotional" or "edifying" topics ... but I do follow the lectionary with decent regularity, and if anyone had something beyond utter tripe to say about these, it was probably the Fathers. Without further ado, I'm giving you the first Sunday comments -- which, of course, won't always be from a commentary -- by one of their number on one of the Sunday readings.)

The Passage: Luke 1:26-38

The Father: Ambrose

The Issue: Why does Luke mention Mary as both espoused and a virgin?

The Text: "Divine mysteries, indeed, lie hidden, and none among men can easily know God's counsel, according to the prophecy, but from the deeds and precepts of our Lord and Savior, we can understand this to be a deliberate plan, that she who was espoused to a man was chosen above all to obey the Lord. But why did she not become pregnant before she was espoused? Perchance, lest it should be said that she had conceived through fornication. And Scripture fittingly mentions both that she was espoused and that she was a Virgin: Virgin, that she should be seen as not having known a man; espoused, lest she whose swollen belly presented a sign of a seducer be branded with the dishonour of violated virginity. But the Lord preferred that some should doubt concerning His Birth, rather than concerning His Mother's honour -- for He knew that the modesty of a virgin is tender, and the rumour is slippery --, nor did He think that the credibility of His origin should be added to His Mother's wrongs. Thus, Saint Mary's Virginity is preserved unimpaired by shame and inviolable by rumour; for it behoves the Saints also to have testimony from outsiders, nor was it fitting that the veil of excuse be abandoned through ill repute by those living as virgins, because even the Mother of the Lord was seen as disgraced."

-- Exposition of the Holy Gospel according to Saint Luke (Expositio Evangelii Secundum Lucam)

Looking for the dead amongst the living.

2008-12-20T05:42:00.000-08:00

There's nothing particularly novel or interesting about the statement that legal interpretation and biblical interpretation have a lot in common. After all, both involve a (reasonably) closed canon -- in the best Jonathan Z. Smith sense of the term -- from which interpreters who are removed from the initial creation of aforementioned canon by anywhere from years to millennia try to wring applications to situations never contemplated, or contemplated "wrongly" by its original creators.

This is without question a nerve-racking task, regardless of whether one is trying to read 1 Timothy or the first Amendment, and the fear of "getting it wrong" is second only to the fear that there is no "right way" accessible to the interpreter. Ergo "originalism" in the realm of Constitutional Law and "inerrancy" in the realm of Biblical Interpretation (... is it any wonder that the warm endorsement of one frequently coincides with the eager embrace of the other?) The difficulty with either, of course, is that much as we would like to believe otherwise, no judge, scholar or minister approaches "the text" with a completely open mind, devoid of preconceptions or personal predilection -- gazing down the long, dark mine-shaft of history, we tend to discover that, hey, look! Paul, or, as the case may be, Thomas Jefferson, looks a lot like ME! (Thus the inimitable Ed Sanders' pictures of a couple of rather semitic-looking first-century gentlemen on his erstwhile webpage, labeled "Not Ed Sanders" -- good for him and, well, us!*)

In the field of Early Christianity, the problem of finding rather too precisely who or what one is looking for does not, of course, afflict only those looking for the historical Jesus of the historical Paul -- and the fact that we have rather more of the writings of, say, Augustine, than we do of the works of, say, Paul, tends to exacerbate the situation. In other words, having set out to find, however well-intentioned-ly and scholarly, Augustine's true views on _____, I have considerably more rope by which to hang myself and considerably more texts from which to read what, on some level, I hoped to find. This realization rouses as much unease for the historian as it does for the judge or the pastor: The future of the nation or the faith my not depend on whether Origen was truly a "heretic," but the shaky epistemological ground on which we find ourselves threatens to cave not only under our own feet but under those of our entire discipline in a veritable landslide of post-modernism.

I was reminded of this dilemma while reading Paula Fredriksen's (exceedingly fine) Augustine and the Jews. Prof. Fredriksen is, of course, an exceptional reader of texts, and excedingly careful in her conclusions; indeed, my anxiety probably reflects more on my own work of the various pro and adversus Iudaios writings of a different Father than Frederiksen's treatment of Augustine. I confess myself to be a bit too enamoured with a pro-Jewish (... or at least: less anti-Jewish ...) Augustine, Ephrem or Ambrose: Like most scholars, I harbor a good deal of affection for my subjects; without feeling the need to agree with them on everything (or anything), I nevertheless want them to be "good men" by my standards, my most stalward commitment to scholarly objectivity notwithstanding.

That's not to say that I would be any more likely to uncover "the truth" about Origen's views on homosexuality or Jerome's thoughts on women if I were hostilly inclined towards them or the larger social construct (... otherwise known as some variant of "the Church" ...) in which they find themselves: I would likely find a Father who looks rather less like his prior historical portrayal -- and that is, I think, nothing to be sneezed at -- but I would still fall short of grasping the holy grail of objectivity.

What then? Shall we throw over history as a failed venture? Perhaps -- only to the extent that we might do well to stick with the evidence (... the text, the epigraph, the icon, the architectural remains ...) and, in the words of an acquaintance, beware of grand sweeping theories. On a more modest level, though, it strikes me that the solution, such as it is, lies also with the very discomfort that historians experience when we probe our consciences and our subjects -- that it, in fact, lies in the very desire to write "Not P. Fredriksen" or "Not (Yours Truly)" under the icons or caricatures of the men and women we study.

That's my story -- and I'm sticking with it! ;)

* Courtesy of the Inter-Web, I'm told that Ed Sanders is indeed yummy. Who knew?

Is there a Doctor in the House?

2008-12-18T05:14:00.000-08:00

Recently, I've been spending a bit more time with my buddy Aphrahat -- one of my "great writers you've (probably) never heard of". Aphrahat is otherwise known as "the Persian Sage" ... now, how's that for pretentious? Given, however, that his slightly younger contemporary, Ephrem, had already nabbed the sub-title "the Syrian," I suppose we'll have to cede to Aphrahat the two things we know about him with some degree of certainty: a.) He was "Persian" -- East Syrian, and b.) he was at least generally recognized as wise.

What little there's left of his writings encompasses 23 single-subject treatises, better known as "Demonstrations," from the first half of the fourth century. These cover such handy topics as "prayer," "fasting," "wars," "virginity," etc. -- a kind of "everything you've always wanted to know about ___ but were afraid to ask" for the moderately ascetic Eastern Christian of late antiquity. (Quite a few of these can be accessed in translation here; plus, if you're feeling ambitious and have your Payne-Smith or Brockelmann handy, there's always the parallel Syriac/Latin version here.)

One of the treatises that's captured my attention recently is No. 7 -- "On Penitence." (In conversation with one of my "normal" -- a.k.a. not patristically-minded -- friends who remains too polite to simply avoid the "so, what are you working on?" question, I was recently asked whether penitence is "that thing from the Da Vinci Code, with the self-flogging". The answer is, I think, that quite aside from the fact that the Da Vinci Code is a literary abomination, some things just got a bit more ... intense ... in the Medieval era. Medievalists, please don't hurt me!) The treatise's thesis is easy to sum up: Penitence -- asking for it, offering it, receiving it -- is a very good thing. (Indeed, Aphrahat suggests that if a certain ancestral bozo has had the good sense to own up to his apple-related misdeed and asked God's forgiveness, humanity might not be in this present mess -- a suggestion Ephrem heartily seconds in his Commentary on Genesis.)

One of the likely but uncertain bits and bobbles about Aphrahat is the suggestion that he may have been a bishop. Tradition certainly -- and with great certainty: mistakenly -- places him at the helm of the Mar Mattai bishopric, but some of the Demonstrations themselves hint at Aphrahat's having held episcopal office. Demonstration VII certainly knows of such an office (... and we'd be more than a little confused if it didn't! ...) and identifies it with the Mt. 16:19 responsibility of holding the keys to the kingdom: The bishops are those whose task is to loose and to bind -- although reading Aphrahat, the latter is consistently downplayed. The bishop's role, the reader is given to understand, is central in large part because he relieves repentant Christians of the burden of their sins.

Aphrahat couches this in terms of the "physician" metaphor: Bishops are the medical personnel that appeases the wounds Christians have sustained in their battle with the adversary. The Christian that succumbs to temptation is thus wounded and cannot fully rejoin the battle unless he first brings his sin -- the wound -- to the attention to the bishop. Only by airing out one's sins and by receiving the medicine of penitence can the Christian be once again fortified ... although, Aphrahat suggests, a second wound in the same place, while heal-able, will take the Christian permanently away from the battle proper.

What's interesting about the text is the ways in which it testifies to tensions within the ecclesial hierarchy in Aphrahat's community. The bishops, as will have already become apparent, are key to the church's struggle against evil and Aphrahat addresses them as such. By the same token, however, they are far from the frontlines; those are staffed by the Bnei Qyama, the Sons and Daughters of the Covenant, a quasi-ascetic group about whom we know little ... and what little we know comes from the likes of Aphrahat and his later contemporary Rabbula. Whatever else they do, they spend considerable time in prayer and devotion; as such, they are the obvious targets for the adversary, Aphrahat reasons -- so much so, that news of a wound sustained by one of them has the potential to damage the morale of the entire "army".

Their physicians, the bishops, must thus treat each confession with confidentiality and sensitivity ... and yet, the reader infers, Aphrahat's bishops are less than enthusiastic about dispensing the medicine of penitence to their ascetic constituents. Aphrahat thus has no qualms about reminding them of their two-fold relationship with God: On the one hand, bishops image God amongst the people -- God's example as forgiving, loosing, receiving is thus the primary inspiration for the bishops' task vis-a-vis penitents. On the other hand, bishops as physicians are in the employ of the same king -- God -- who also leads the army to which the Bnei Qyama belong. They will thus receive the king's praise and recompense for restoring his warriors to him -- and face his wrath if they fail to do so. The bishops thus have power -- but all power is conditional upon its proper employ: The physician who does not heal is useless; the representative of God who acts in un-god-like ways fails at his task.

Such tensions between hierarchal and "rogue" manifestations of authority are, of course, not limited to the 4th century Syrian churches. While the Bnei Qyama disappeared soon after Aphrahat's time -- or so we gather -- the tension between bishops and mystics, and, right into the 21st century, between regular and secular clergy belie similarly competing concerns. Bishops and Ascetics. Physicians and fighters. I suppose there might be a lesson in all this ... somewhere.

Entertaining the Trinity Unawares. (Part I)

2008-12-17T04:58:00.000-08:00

Trinitarian theophanies are rare. In fact, my scripturally challenged brain can come up with only a handful of texts historically open to such interpretation -- the most significant being, of course, the various baptism scenes (Mk. 1:10/Mt. 3:16/Lk. 3:22/Jn. 1:32). Then there's the Isaianic Trishagion (Is. 6:3) -- complete with the question of whether the two cherubim may be interpreted as Son and Spirit. The Transfiguration accounts (Mk. 9:7/Mt. 17:5) are more binitarian, as far as I can discern, and the Genesis references to divinity in plurality ("Let us make ... humankind" -- thank you, genderinclusive NRSV! -- "in our image") not only lack reference to a tertium quid, but qualify only in the loosest, most literary sense as "theophanies". Bummer.

And then there's the Genesis 18 account of Abraham's three visitors at the Oaks of Mamre. A glance at the opening verses makes clear why this text became the darling of Trinitarian interprets everywhere:

"The LORD appeared to Abraham by the oaks of Mamre, as he sat at the entrance of his tent in the heat of the day. He looked up and saw three men standing near him. When he saw them, he ran from the tent entrance to meet them, and bowed down to the ground. He said, “My lord, if I find favor with you, do not pass by your servant."

There's the emphasis on the divine appearance, the manifestation thereof in three visitors, and Abraham's address of them (him?) in the singular. Philo in his On Abraham deals with the passage on a figurative level as follows (... given the ungodly length of this quote, which would nevertheless be criminal to cut in any way, I'm highlighting the 10-cent-version those of us who lack time, interest, or an introduction to Philo's views on the Logos*.)

"The things which are expressed by the voice are the signs of those things which are conceived in the mind alone; when, therefore, the soul is shone upon by God as if at noonday, and when it is wholly and entirely filled with that light which is appreciable only by the intellect, and by being wholly surrounded with its brilliancy is free from all shade or darkness, it then perceives a threefold image of one subject, one image of the living God, and others of the other two, as if they were shadows irradiated by it. And some such thing as this happens to those who dwell in that light which is perceptible by the outward senses, for whether people are standing still or in motion, there is often a double shadow falling from them.

Let not any one then fancy that the word shadow is applied to God with perfect propriety. It is merely a catachrestical abuse of the name, by way of bringing before our eyes a more vivid representation of the matter intended to be intimated. Since this is not the actual truth, but in order that one may when speaking keep as close to the truth as possible, the one in the middle is the Father of the universe, who in the sacred scriptures is called by his proper name, I am that I am; and the beings on each side are those most ancient powers which are always close to the living God, one of which is called his creative power, and the other his royal power. And the creative power is God, for it is by this that he made and arranged the universe; and the royal power is the Lord, for it is fitting that the Creator should lord it over and govern the creature.

Therefore, the middle person of the three, being attended by each of his powers as by body-guards, presents to the mind, which is endowed with the faculty of sight, a vision at one time of one being, and at another time of three; of one when the soul being completely purified, and having surmounted not only the multitudes of numbers, but also the number two, which is the neighbour of the unit, hastens onward to that idea which is devoid of all mixture, free from all combination, and by itself in need of nothing else whatever; and of three, when, not being as yet made perfect as to the important virtues, it is still seeking for initiation in those of less consequence, and is not able to attain to a comprehension of the living God by its own unassisted faculties without the aid of something else, but can only do so by judging of his deeds, whether as creator or as governor.

This then, as they say, is the second best thing; and it no less partakes in the opinion which is dear to and devoted to God. But the firstmentioned disposition has no such share, but is itself the very God-loving and God-beloved opinion itself, or rather it is truth which is older than opinion, and more valuable than any seeming."

What's interesting about Philo's account is that it is actually more "Trinitarian" than early Christian readings of the text in question. Justin Martyr in his second-century Dialogue with Trypho thus agrees with Philo that the central figure is God -- albeit not merely figuratively, as Philo suggests, but actually and quasi-incarnationally -- but sees the two "extraneous" figures as mere angels, ontologically not merely inferior (pace Philo) but different animals entirely:

"Moses, the blessed and faithful servant of God, declares that the one who appeared to Abraham under the oak in Mamre is God, sent with the two angels in his company to judge Sodom, by another, who dwells eternally in the heavenly places, invisible to all and engaging in converse with none; the one whom we believe to be the Maker and Father of all things." (Dialogue 56)

For Justin, of course, the central figure is not merely God, but the Logos -- Christ -- who functions as the Father's revelatory agent in the divine economy. While this Logos is indeed God, however, Justin, like his contemporaries, readily subordinates the Son to the Father:

"Therefore neither Abraham nor Isaac nor Jacob nor anyone else saw the Father and ineffable Lord of all (even of Christ); rather did they see the one who was according to his will his Son, being God and the Angel, because he ministered to his will." (Dialogue 127)

A couple of centuries later, Justin's vision will be picked up by Hilary of Poitiers, who argues similarly that the "Trinity" encountered by Abraham at Mamre is composed of God/Christ and two angels. The latter two, in an ingenious (... and, as far as I can tell, original to Hilary ...) move are said to go on towards Sodom to meet with Lot while God/Christ remains behind to converse with Abraham.

For Hilary, however, the designation of the revelatory-Logos as God suggests that there is equality between Father and Son: The Logos whom Abraham encounters speaks for God and has power to bring about what is promised, including Sarah's pregnancy and the resultant mutiplication of Abraham's progeny and the destruction of Sodom. At work here, Hilary argues, is more than a unity of wills or even a unity of works, but a unity of powers and thus of nature:

"Scripture makes no distinction, by difference of name, between Their natures, but discriminates between Themselves. For we read in the Gospel "The Father judgeth no man, but hath given all judgment ot the Son. Thus what the Lord gave, the Lord had received from the Lord." (On the Trinity IV.29)

Of course, to the casual reader of Patristic sources, Hilary's interpretation -- and, by extension, Justin's -- sound patently wrong. We "know," after all, that the Fathers, especially the heavily pro-Nicene ones like Hilary, read this passages in Trinitarian terms ... not simply as Christological revelations. That interpretation has its hayday in Augustine -- or at least: in some of Augustine -- as well as in an incipient form in Origen. What these two, plus, perhaps, Ephrem and Caesarius of Arles are doing with the text is, however, a subject more appropriately reserved for a future entry.

* For the Patristically disposed, Rowan Williams' offers a nice, quick'n'dirty intro to Philo's Logos in Arius: Heresy and Tradition (... which, really, everyone should be reading regardless.)

Caesarius of Arles, Plagiarist.

2008-12-16T07:48:00.000-08:00

The medium-sized and decently well-regarded pastor-factory I occasionally teach at was recently beset by the odd instance (or three) of plagiarism. These cases are not particularly interesting in and of themselves, although the fact that the perpetrators were students well on their way into the pulpits of America made them perhaps additionally disturbing to some of my colleagues. One of them remarked: "What are they going to do when they have to preach every week? Copy sermons from the internet?!"

Righteous indignation aside, it struck me that, historically speaking, the fine young men making up the homiletic elite would have done precisely that. Take, for example, Caesarius of Arles -- a fine example of a late-5th/early-6th century preaching powerhouse. No fewer than three volumes of his sermons have been published in Catholic U. Press's fine series, The Fathers of Church, and while he's garnered less attention than the likes of, say, Augustine, the re-translation of his works remains a growth industry. [A few too many years in academia make the urge to footnote or hyper-link -- the blogosphere's equivalent -- almost irresistable. Curse you, foul academic fiend!]

Yet a reader of, e.g., Caesarius' Sermon 83 -- a fine piece of Trinitarian exposition of Genesis 18 -- might experience an odd sense of deja vu. Should aforementioned reader then pick up a copy of, say, Origen of Alexandria's Homily IV on Genesis, that sense of deja vu would certainly blossom in astonishing ways. To demonstrate, let's start with one of Caeasarius' more interesting and passages:

"[Abraham] also served a bullock; not a tough one, but a 'good, tender one.' Now what is so good and tender as He who humbled Himself for us even unto death? He Himself is that fatted calf which the father killed upon receiving his repentant son. For God so loved the world that he gave his only-begotten Son."

Compare now Origen's treatment -- roughly 300 years before Caesarius:

"A calf is served; behold, another mystery. The calf itself is not tough, but good and tender.' And what is so tender, what so good as that one who humbled himself for us to death and laid down his life for his friends? He is the 'fatted calf' which the father slaughtered to receive his repentant son. For he so loved this world, as to give his only son for the life of this world."

As far as things that make us go "hmm" are concerned, this passage -- and its many parallels and parallels of parallels throughout the two short homilies -- should be high on our lists. If we take into account that the passages were not only translated by different individuals, but that one was originally written in Greek -- albeit translated into Latin during the latter parts of the 4th century -- and the other in Latin, the correspondences become even more striking.

What goes by the name of "plagiarism" in contemporary academic circles and is rightly reviled and punished as such is treated as "literary dependency" in the study of Late Antiquity. That's not to say that plagiarism was either unheard of or thought of benignly in Caesarius' era -- Jerome, for one, had definite views on those who sought to feather their caps with literary gems not of their own making, as his Commentary on Didymus the Blind and preface to his translation of Origen's homilies on Luke suggest. But don't take my -- or Jerome's -- word for it: Rumor has it that forgery and literary use and abuse of all kinds will get an up-to-date treatment by a certain well-known NT scholar and former Daily Show guest in the coming months.

And there you have it. A suitably nerdy introduction :)