Knowing With Your Body

I like the article I posted yesterday, but even though it points to ways that we communicate and interpret Scripture non-verbally, it remains a predominantly cognitive, abstract exercise. This afternoon I delighted to read Dave Rogers’ account of training for his first marathon; I was rooting for him all along as I read, and when at the end he laid out the punch line —

When I left my condo last Sunday, my kitchen sink had been clean for seven straight days. Prior to that, I would clean it from time to time, but it would always accumulate a collection of dirty dishes, food scraps, water stains and the occasional beer bottle cap. I’d come home from work and see it and feel rotten about it, but always sort of regard it as something that was just “too hard” to keep up with. Well, maybe not anymore. Commitment and consistency. Embodied knowledge that we have within us the means to achieve the things we wish to achieve, if we choose to commit to them. Right now, I’m committed to a clean sink.

— I was wishing I had put a more vigorous, explicit emphasis on the embodied aspect of sound biblical interpretation. It’s très à la mode to say, “You have to be the change you want to see in the world,” but Gandhi was applying to direct social action a principle that applies every bit as much to sound theology or sound Scriptural interpretation. If you aren’t doing your biblical interpretation with your whole body, you’re probably not on the right track (or, “you’re interpreting the Bible sure enough, but your interpretation is that the Bible doesn’t matter”). And if you try to make your whole body accountable for an interpretation of the Bible, it’s going to change the way you read as much as it affects your presence in the world and your relations to all creation round you.
 
Well done, Dave — congratulations!
 

Interpreting the Bible in a Sea of Signs

Late draft for an article published in the Yale Divinity School alumni/ae magazine Reflections, Spring 2008, pages 53-57. I reckon this draft differs from the final copy in some respects, but the differences should be slight.
 
 
I came to Yale as a refugee from the early days of the computer graphics industry. Business had been good, and would eventually get much better, but as soon as I set foot on campus and heard the clatter of late-summer typewriters settling the academic debts of spring semester, Yale drew me into the musty delights of the Higher Criticism, three different library classification systems, and Coffee Hour.
 
   Once I settled into my seminary studies, however, I discovered that my fascination with biblical studies engendered a baffling problem: the more I learned in my biblical courses, the less my studies seemed to enhance my ministry and preaching. Like any good academic apprentice, I tried at first to redouble my efforts. That only aggravated the problem; I knew more and more, but the technical apparatus of my learning always seemed to stand between me and the fluent, compelling, preach-able biblical theology for which I thirsted. My increasing technical expertise did not help me inhabit and proclaim the traditions I was studying.
 
   My teachers at Yale Divinity encouraged me to keep chipping away at this complex of problems: in biblical theology with Brevard Childs, literary theory with Richard Hays, postmodernism with Cornel West, among others. Gradually, the puzzle pieces came together. Their inspiration and instruction helped me articulate a way of understanding interpretation that produced theologically rich readings of scripture, but also allowed for a nuanced, historical-critical approach to the Bible.
 
   My way forward involved learning to explore the Bible and Christian tradition without participating in the ceaseless power struggle over whose interpretation is authoritatively right and whose is wrong. This means sidestepping — recuperating from — a fixation on the illusory authority of claiming the “correct” interpretation. I offer instead a way of thinking about interpretation that still involves deliberation about better and sounder interpretations, but without pretensions to decisive interpretive authority. This proposal is unlikely to assuage our fiery passion to claim privileged possession of biblical correctness. But it may afford the incalculable advantage of clarifying the bases of our interpretations, and the bases of the relation of our interpretations to our dogmatic conclusions, our ecclesiology and our ethics.
Continue reading “Interpreting the Bible in a Sea of Signs”

Well, Look At That

I was skimming the Yale Divinity School newsletter for alums, and came across a long list of awards that the Associated Church Press had bestowed upon YDS publications. Toward the end of that litany I learned that my article “Reading the Bible in a Sea of Signs” had won an ACP Award of Merit (i.e., second prize) in the category of “Theological or Scholarly Article.” I’m pleased, over and above the predictable jolt to my vanity, since I’ve detected relatively few signs that more than one or two people actually read the piece (it’s not available online through Yale; I may go ahead and reproduce a version of it here).
 
So I’m hanging onto second prize in a minor award category for all I’m worth, because we’re hip deep into moving, and moving is something for which I will never receive a prize of any sort. I hate moving, I don’t cope well with moving, and all the more so as (a) this is the third or fourth move we’ve made in the past three years (depending on what you count), (b) we’ll have to move stuff again next year anyway, and (c) we don’t yet know where we’ll put down our bags even for the coming year. This renders me pretty useless for the burdens of moving, which then fall the more heavily on Margaret, whose strain makes me feel worse, and besides, where will we even live next year, et cetera.
 
All that being said, I’d rather go through the move while holding second prize in this theological beauty contest, than without. Thanks, ACP!

What Makes Exegetical Research Hard?

[Part Five of this series: one, two, three, four]
 
Granted, then, that the practice of exegesis is complicated by confusions concerning what the term itself names, concerning the expectations that readers bring to exegesis, concerning the genres in which to express interpretive proposals, and concerning language and what we do with it — granted all those complications, exegesis also involves complications from its involvement with research. Biblical scholars frequently overlook this point, since (in order to become biblical scholars) they often have an insatiable appetite for research; but more typical individuals find research daunting, confusing, sometimes frustrating, sometimes quite unpleasant. Some simply do not have a temperament suited to biblical research, and others might be inclined to pursue research but don’t have an aptitude for the various aspects of research. Sometimes barriers to access to reference materials impede students’ research, and sometimes deadlines (and poor planning) limit the amount of research someone can accomplish. Usually, students undertake exegetical research mainly to satisfy other people’s requirements and expectations, rather than out of a vivid desire to learn; that renders the whole exercise less engaging, more mechanical, than pursuits that draw learners into voluntary commitment to inquiry. Few people have devoted much time to the kinds of activity that exegesis requires; the very unfamiliarity of exegetical research renders the whole activity less satisfying. So one of the fundamental elements of exegesis — research into possible appropriate interpretations — calls for students to operate with underdeveloped skills, in unfamiliar environments, with limited time, at purposes they don’t care for, regardless of their disposition and personal strengths (or weaknesses).
 
There’s not much we can do about temperament and aptitudes at the start, but it helps us who teach biblical studies to recall that we have been selected as the sort of people who wouldn’t have much trouble with exegetical research, whereas our students include a varied spectrum of learners. Even among those who ardently want to know more about Jesus (or Isaiah, or the Holy Spirit, or whomever), not everyone wants to learn by looking through a stack of books, searching a database for relevant articles, reading, note-taking, comparing, and so on. When we add the consideration that some of these students have already received discouraging feedback on exegetical research (often for reasons they don’t fully understand), their reluctance to throw themselves into detailed investigation of the scholarly interpretations of a given point seems eminently justified.
 
Beginning exegetes will find further pitfalls in the very topics they’re assigned to study. The topics of exegetical assignments often seem utterly fascinating to scholars, but remote and baffling to students. Perhaps the assignment touches on a nuance that beginners can’t imagine caring a whole lot about, or perhaps the assignment invites attention to a puzzle that only stands out to an observer who already knows the material well, or perhaps the assignment addresses a plainly puzzling or controversial passage that defies explanation at a beginning level. Perhaps the assignment is left open to the students’ choice, leaving them up in the air about what might constitute an appropriate topic. For all these reasons and more, students may feel unmotivated to pursue their research with much energy.
 
Any lack of motivation will certainly aggravate the fact that research materials are not universally available for handy perusal. Many students don’t live conveniently nearby a research library (and ordinary public libraries typically hold relatively few useful reference works in biblical studies). Even when one can get to a research library, it takes effort to shuttle from databases and catalogs to the shelves that hold books, and sometimes books are misshelved, and sometimes libraries distribute their volumes in confusing ways. When I went to seminary, the library operated collections with three different cataloging systems. The desired books may be circulating, or on reserve, or they may not be in a particular library’s collection. Exegetes who conduct their research online may encounter obstacles gaining access to copyrighted material, if they aren’t associated with a subscribing institution, or if their institution’s privileges do not include off-site browsing. And all this is aggravated by the likelihood that good exegetical research will require multiple trips to the library, refining and adding and abandoning and reviewing various lines of interpretive inquiry. (I will not even describe the user interfaces of some prominent catalog-search software systems, which seem to have been desgned by Mordac, The Preventer of Information Services.) Even if students only perceive themselves to have limited access (see: “lack of motivation” above), the effort of conducting research will diminish the productivity of their research sessions and the likelihood that they will conduct follow-up research to check and enhance their first results.
 
Finally, the bibliographic problem-solving behavior that characterizes biblical researchers calls for activities at which most people don’t spend much time. Even when I have walked students through exegetical research, showing where I looked for preliminary information, where I looked for further clues, where I would look on library shelves for resources, which periodicals would be more likely to provide helpful articles than others, how to compare two rival interpretive arguments, and so on — even when I demonstrated all the various steps that I typically undertake (with an accompanying handout), students would find it difficult to do what they had just seen me do; that which they had to re-enact on the basis of instruction and demonstration was still awkward and counterintuitive. Unfamiliarity breeds resistance.
 
[Next: conflicting authorities and criteria]

Introibo

You aren’t a believer, are you? Haines asked. I mean, a believer in the narrow sense of the word. Creation from nothing and miracles and a personal God.
 
There’s only one sense of the word, it seems to me, Stephen said.
 
 
Happy Bloomsday!

Seth Godin Catches Up

Seth Godin has a very-perceptive analysis of the future of textbooks in an era of digitally-mediated, open-access scholarship. His vision of textbooks that comprise a selection of chapters and mini-essays rings quite true, and affords some advantages even he doesn’t specify. (OK, having offered several glowing compliments to Seth Godin, who doesn’t even need or care about my praise, is it too petty of me to note that I posted a version of his idea five years ago, and sketched it in greater detail to several granting agencies (in vain)? Yes, it is, but I’ve gone and done it anyway.)
 
(Oh, and I’m sorry that link takes you to a static page whose style sheet seems to have gone cattywumpus. It’s an aftereffect of the big Movable Type crash that impelled me to convert to WordPress, and I haven’t had the determination or support to go back and scrape all my earlier entries to appear in the WordPress version — which is a shame, since it means comments are effectively closed, and the spam comments are left in there forever, though in a more nearly perfect world I’d like to purge them.)

Other Side

I’m coming down from the wedding euphoria these days; the astringent sting of all the upcoming challenges will do that to you. In the next three weeks, all of our worldly possessions will be packed up and most will be stored; I’ll become officially “unemployed”; I’ll have interviewed for a terrific job opportunity that would entail a high degree of geographical dislocation; we’ll have to make some kind of decision about where Margaret (at least) will live next year, since none of the job possibilities that remain open to me is anywhere near Baltimore; we’ll take on several significant financial obligations; and all of this will be happening at once. Temporary homelessness beats indefinite homelessness all hollow, and we have friends to shelter us (thank you!), but it still feels a little creepy to be over fifty, established in a particular professional practice, broke, and up-in-the-air about so basic a thing as my home address.
 
So, I think I’ll take a shower and go try to write one of the overdue essays I owe (two lectionary essays, a talk for the job I’ll be interviewing for, and I mustn’t forget the two papers I’ll give at the November SBL meeting, plus I’ll be preaching a couple of times later in the summer — I’ll be filling in at Christ Church for a couple of weeks). Getting something done should help.

Annual Asseveration

Twenty-seven years ago today, Margaret Bamforth and I vowed to have and to hold, to love and to cherish one another, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, until we are parted by death.
 
This has not been the easiest year for us to live up to that promise. I won’t rehearse the litany of adverse circumstances from the past fifteen months, but we’ve been swimming hard lately. I’m sure I haven’t been the most agreeable character on earth, variously enshrouded by griefs and worries and feelings of failure. Through all of this, Margaret and I have held tight to each other, sometimes ducking under the big waves, always coming up for air and another round of dog-paddling. For better, for worse; for richer, for poorer; in sickness, in health. This has not been an easy year, but the testing has reminded us how resilient our love has been.
 
Then last weekend, we drove hours and hours in a car stuffed with boxes of flower-jars, candle-holders, candles, oh, and Pippa and her luggage and ours. The drive was long, but smooth, and once we alit in Chicagoland, all the effort Margaret (and the Harrises!) put into preparation kept everything going smoothly.
 
There’s a point in the Episcopal marriage rite — I don’t think Tripp included it in Saturday’s liturgy, I’m not sure — where the prayer says, “Grant that all married persons who have witnessed these vows may find their lives strengthened and their loyalties confirmed.” Whether Tripp said that or not, the whole experience of bringing Josiah to the altar to marry Laura absolutely had that effect on Margaret and me. Nothing has ever driven home to me as forcefully and as joyously the responsibility and the gift of marriage, and Margaret and I have been recollecting that revelation every day since last Saturday.
 
Margaret, I know you will read this: Let me say again before God and the world that nothing will ever part you from me, that not geography nor adversity nor finances nor afflictions will come between us. Together we have wrought wonderful things; together we will see more wonderful things yet. Our lives have been strengthened and our loyalties confirmed by the flourishing love of our children, by the supporting love of our friends and relatives, by a shared faith in divine grace, enduring hope, and above all in the forgiving, enlivening, sustaining love of God. Thank you for offering me that faith, sweetheart, and for holding me in that faith, and for promising always to keep me with you in faith. I love you, forever.

Lazy Web Inquiry

Pasting video over audio (pasting a clipped video track over the extant video without pasting the audio over the extant audio) should be one of the easiest things ever in iMovie; I’d think people would want to do it all the time, and I can’t imagine it’s that hard on the application side (compared with an elaborate transition between shots, for instance). But iMovie ’09 seems either (a) to have made this capacity inaccessible or (b) to have designated it with an unintelligible menu name.
 
Can anyone tell me how to paste a video selection onto the audio of the foundation track?

All Wedding, All The Time

Just when you thought that I might get back to talking about what makes exegetical research so hard, or about the non-consent to the election of the so-called Buddhist Bishop, or about apologetic statesmen of a compromising kind, I break out yet another wedding-related link. This is a slide montage of images taken by Peter Coombs, the professional photographer for the Harris-Adam wedding (about whom we can’t rave enthusiastically enough):
 

 
Margaret and I went to see Angels and Demons this afternoon, out of a sense of academic obligation. To be entirely fair, it was better than the preceding film, and both were better than the book of The da Vinci Code (I haven’t read the preceding book); and early on, the film seemed to make an arch comment about the intellectual seriousness of “symbology.” Still, the sheer preposterousness of the plot contrasts jarringly with the humorless didacticism of the main character. The Harvard Professor of Symbology has to be told, toward the end of the film, that a symbol might have another meaning! The action of the movie takes such vast liberties with the duration of time that a viewer must simply give up all sense of regularized chronology. Ewan MacGregor played his part well, as did Armin Mueller-Stahl. Still, the crowning incoherence of this exercise in earnest erroneousness comes from the fact that Robert Langdon, the spokesperson for Enlightenment in the film, reaches his conclusions by outlandish speculations, wild guesses, dogmatic (un-evidenced) assertions, and condescending patter. In that respect, Langdon serves as a fitting Mary Sue to the novel’s author, Dan Brown.