The Best Part

My late professor, the eminent Brevard Childs, used to say, “The Old Testament is best part of the BIble. . . except for the New Testament.” I have used that line myself, but usually adapted to my role as a lecturer in New Testament Introduction classes: “Mark’s Gospel is the best in the New Testament. . . apart from Matthew.” “The Pauline Epistles are the best part of the New Testament. . . except for Hebrews.” And so on.
 
Yesterday morning I got up, got out of bed, and would have dragged a comb across my head if there were anything there to comb, and staggered in to the office to wrap up my preparation to give a lecture on the Pastoral Epistles at 9:00. (The Pastorals are 1 Timothy, 2 Timothy, and Titus; they’re called “Pastoral” because they address topics of special relevance to pastoral ministry.) On my way out the door, I noted on Facebook that I was “trying to wake up before thrill-packed lecture on the Pastoral Epistles.”
 
While I was teaching, visiting the Hunterian Gallery’s Mackintosh House with Margaret (and dreaming about acquiring some Mackintosh-like furnishings when someday we have a bigger flat and enough income to afford furniture), then grocery shopping, then collapsing in a heap from carrying the heavy groceries home, then rehearsing my parts for last night’s sung Mass and Compline, then taking Margaret out for a special dinner at Antipasti — while all that was going on, my friends Judy Stack-Nelson, Frank Witt Hughes, and Greg Carey started a heated conversation in the comments thread (and Daniel Kirk commented about it on my Twitter feed, too). At the end, Frank asked, “What thrilling things did you say about the Pastorals before you took your wife on a date?” Rather than sequester my answer in the comments thread of an obscure FB post that the FB corporation owns, I figured I’d respond over here. I’ll say roughly what I lectured about, and will try to address some of the points Judy and Frank and Greg brought up in their comments.
 
I’ve lectured on the Pastorals at least a dozen times before, so I have enough notes to go on for two or three hours. The trick is to keep focused on the particular points that pertain to the defined objectives of the course as I’m teaching it this time. My device for doing so is to begin each lecture by stipulating four things I want to emphasize. I don’t give out my lecture notes, but I post the “four things” on the course website; that way, the class will have a skeleton on the basis of which to flesh out their notes or recollections or doodles, and I know that I have about ten minutes to spend on each topic, plus a little time for gathering and dismissing and so on.
 
When I was setting up the four things for the Pastorals, though, I realized that my notes on the letters dealt almost exclusively with authorship, ecclesiastical structures, and gender interests. I wanted my fourth point to involve Christology, so I started sifting the letters and my library for sensible things to say about the Christology of the Pastorals, and found that taking up this question drew me more deeply into these texts than I’d ventured for a long time, and led me to wish I had occasion to work through them more completely. As it turned out, I didn’t have time to spell out a fourth point (for the time being, the website just says “Christology” for Thing Four, which isn’t very helpful, but I’ll flesh it out later this weekend.
 
What I did say: I began by noting that the vast preponderance of the scholars with whom we’re dealing (we’re using Bart Ehrman’s textbook, BTW) regard the Pastorals as pseudonymous through and through. I explained some of the reasons for that judgment: the vocabulary departs noticeably from Paul’s usual repertoire, the setting of the letters doesn’t jibe smoothly with what Paul and Acts say about Paul’s travels, the ecclesiological settings seem strikingly different from those in known Pauline churches, the letters’ relation to women seems less generous than Paul’s own, and the Christology of the letters differs in intriguing ways from the usual letters.
 
I deal at greater length with the church structure of the Pastorals: how they devote great energy to detailing the qualifications of episkopoi and diakonoi and widows, while Paul otherwise shows little interest in that sort of discourse. At the same time, the qualifications in view aren’t distinctively Christian: these figures are supposed to be reputable good citizens. And where Paul does evince concern about the impression outsiders might conceive of his communities, he’s concerned that they might think that unintelligible tongue-speaking might reflect poorly on the congregation’s worship — not so much that the members might not be upstanding public citizens with demonstrably conventional values. Moreover, since the letters don’t allot Timothy or Titus any specific office themselves, on what basis should anyone listen to them? Are we to assume that a collective of bishops, presbyters, deacons, and widows would be waiting eagerly to see what un-officed Timothy tells them to do? (I don’t assume that the laying-on of hands in 2 Tim 1:6 constitutes “ordination,” since the author doesn’t describe it specifically as such).
Then I talk about the ways that the Pastorals exemplify “gender panic,” the hyperbolic concern that women constitute a danger to everything that the guys have been putting together. The Pastorals frame women’s roles more restrictively, more unsympathetically, and more conventionally than (undisputed) Paul does.
 
That led me to the theology of the Pastorals, where I was fascinated by the intricacies of the topic, and I still don’t sense that I have a satisfactory overview of the letters’ perspective. On one hand, the Christology shifts markedly from Paul’s constant explicit emphasis on the cross (the Pastorals don’t mention the cross or the verbal forms pertaining to crucifixion once, but at several points seem to shy away and substitute euphemistic circumlocutions such as “the noble confession,” 1 Tim 6:12f) toward a theology where Christ functions as the divine-human mediator between the immortal, invisible God who is hid from our eyes in light inaccessible.
 
Anyway, short of talking through the entire lecture, that’s the essence of what I said. I wrapped up by noting that some scholars think that Paul wrote (or authorized) them all, some think that Paul wrote none, and some observe differences between 2 Timothy and the others that warrant more a nuanced verdict on authorship. Relative to the discussion between Judy and Frank, I see some importance in helping my students recognize that the secondary sources they read will generally assume that Paul didn’t write these, and to explore why one would say so. At the same time, I want to help the students read their New Testaments well, so I do try to focus on the letter as they read it, the differences they can easily note between the Pastorals and the undisputed letters — not on the reconstructed ethos of a hypothetical pseudepigrapher.
 
But the effect that reading any New Testament text carefully has on me is to provoke me to wish I had sufficient time and concentration to devote a year or two to plumbing its subtler nuances. Because, after all, the New Testament is the best part of the Bible. . . apart from the Old Testament.

Post Facto

Traffic here spiked dramatically what with the BoingBoing link. It was nice to welcome visitors, and perhaps some of them will stick around for side orders of ruminations about hermeneutics, technology, semiotics, theology, and family observations. Some visitors seem to have been unimpressed, and that’s their prerogative, of course.
 
When I dashed the Chess/MMOG entry off (before my 9 AM class on Tuesday), I thought of it as a way of naming some of my frustrations with the evolution of World of Warcraft. I have, for a long while, winced at the way that x-pacs lean on gear inflation as a lure to keep players aboard. Once you start down that road, you have to make mobs and bosses more powerful to keep them challenging — but after two or three rounds of expansion, the differential between the bosses of the earlier worlds and the bosses in the up-to-date world renders the former “world-threatening” bosses into snarling puppy-dogs whom a moderately competent couple of players can whip handily.
 
The harder (but sounder, as far as I’m concerned) way forward would involve making the bosses slightly more intelligent, slightly less predictable, so that players have to respond to changing circumstances during fights. Instead, Blizzard’s strategy tended to favor increasingly precise execution of set strategies, “gear checks” more than skill checks, and so on. Now, some folks thrive on that regimen, and Elune bless ’em. I am not claiming that I am the determinant of what should be. But I gradually lost interest as the raiding progression depended more on precision and on the anticipation of what you knew was going to happen at set intervals; I’ll say right out loud that I’m not as good at that kind of game (I don’t know whether I am, but it’s not as appealing, so I suppose we aren’t going to find out).
 
Likewise, I know plenty about chess variations. Once upon a time, I was a decent lower-middle chess player, and I’m well acquainted with varieties of fairy chess, Fischer’s proposals, and so on.
 
Perhaps if I had expressed myself more carefully, I wouldn’t have elicited quite so many responses from Warcraft defenders, chess defenders, chess innovators, WoW detractors, and various other dissatisfied constituencies. On the other hand, I wasn’t so much trying to show off my capacity as a humourist (I don’t think anything I’ve written in years has equalled this post from 2004) or to derogate WoW or chess as I was spinning off a bunch of ideas that occurred to me as I was walking to work, thinking about why I was no longer playing WoW and was so looking forward to Glitch! But it’s a useful reminder that you can’t control interpretation, and that if you post something that you just slapped together, other folks may run with it in ways you don’t anticipate, and that’s both predictable and quite justified. And a handful of my friends, who heard me more based on what they know of me beside that entry, were amused, which was all I figured would be the point anyway. That’s OK by me.
 
Oh, and I didn’t write the “polyamory” bit yet, did I? Things are a bit busy here, with Margaret in town, and a heap of pedagogical and scholarly obligations before me, but I haven’t forgotten.

Crowd-Sourcing

My colleagues and I need to devise a name for the biblical-studies component of the Theology and Religious Studies Department (soon to be “Subject Area” within the “School of Critical Studies” of the “College of Arts” of the University of Glasgow). The two main rules are: (1) it should sound like a place more than just an event or process; and (2) it can’t imply institutional autonomy or funding. Hence, the otherwise-obvious candidate “Centre” is ruled out — but a word for a non-Centre Centre would be welcome.
 
Margaret and I were brainstorming on the train from our fantastic day-trip to Edinburgh yesterday
 

Margaret In Edinburgh

 
and we came up with some starters: House; Academy, Institute, Campus, Conservatory, Faculty (I’m betting these sound too official); Laboratory, Lab, Museum, Atheneum; Glaswegeschule; Cluster; Group; Site, Domain, Node, Nexus; Clubhouse; Hideout; Shul, yeshiva, Bet ha-Midrash, Scholê; Den, Kennel, Lair, Warren, Nest, Stable; Speakeasy, Pub, Cafe;
 
If it helps enliven your imaginations, the emblem of our cluster/node/house/whatever will be the unicorn, an emblem for Scotland, for our University (the old campus’s Lion and Unicorn stairs have been rebuilt here at our new campus), a biblical animal (“Will the unicorn be willing to serve thee, or abide by thy crib?” Job 39:9 KJV), and generally a cool thing.
 

Unicorn From the Staircase

If Chess Were Invented By MMOG Developers

After millennia in beta, Échecs Games presents the interactive strategy game for the twenty-first century: Shah-mat 64.0!
 
• More character possibilities — now any unit can be any colour or gender! Male queens, female bishops, chartreuse rooks!
 
• New game board maps featuring additional continents and unoccupied areas — no reason ever to go back to boring original 64 squares!
 
• No more grinding through tedious opening levels — move quickly into endgame content!
 
• New bosses — more powerful pieces, but they move entirely predictably and unintelligently!
 
• New special moves: dimensional portal allows King to escape to any unoccupied square in the game!
 
• High-level Bishops can now reflect off the edges of the game board!
 
• Become a grandmaster with little persistence or effort, like the 9.3 million other grandmasters playing Shah-mat around the world!
 
• Equip your side with new Level 64.0 gear, featuring:
     — Single-attack immunity (must be vulnerable
        to capture by two or more pieces
       before unit can be removed);
     — Double-move power (unit can take
       two consecutive moves in one turn)
     — New Knight move (put your left hand in,
       put your left hand out,
       put your left hand in
       and you shake it all about,
       then move to a square that bears no relation to what you’ve just done)
     — Adamantium Throne protects King from all attacks
     — Infinity Crown allows Queens to do whatever they want
 
• New varieties for the most undervalued unit: Pawns, Prawns, Pompawns, Crampawns, Harpawns, Weapawns, Coupawns, Marzipawns, and Thereupawns
 
• New Potions, Power-ups, and Buffs that entirely alter units’ capabilities and render most pieces functionally identical!
 
• Achievements and badges for accomplishments that bear no relation to game skill!
 
• $15/month to play, upgrade to Shah-mat 65 in 18 months for only $50
 
(Add your feature suggestions here). . . .

Dydd Gwyl Dewi hapus i bawb

Happy St David’s Day to all, especially to my friends named “David” and to you vegetarians out there. David is patron saint of vegetarians, a patronage he shares with St Wulfstan of Worcester, evidently. Unfortunately, Dewi forbade his monks the consumption of beer, which would reduce his popularity with the theologians I know by a tremendous share.

Horrors!

I just remembered a terrible dream from last night, in which Josiah — in a well-intentioned effort to do something nice for his old dad — polished the Mont Blanc 149 fountain pen I inherited from my father, except that Si was polishing it so vigorously that he was rubbing the gold plating off the barrel of the pen.
 
Thankfully, it was only a dream, and there is no gold plating on the barrel of a 149, and Si, I would love you anyway, once I recovered from the convulsions of filial and stylophilic desolation that such a (counterfactual) catastrophe would engender.