And now for something completely different ...

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.

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The Two NAPS

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.

(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.

"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.

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

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)

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?!